


Chains

by Veggieheist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, Abuse, Accidental Force Bond (Star Wars), Alternate Universe, Anger, Angst, Apprentice - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Burns, COVID-19 got us all quarantined and in need of mental stimulation, Catharsis, Character Death, Character Development, Child Abuse, Collars, Dreams and Nightmares, End of chapter discussion questions because, F/M, Food Issues, Force Abuse, Gaslighting, Graphic Description, Hands, Hurt/Comfort, I mean "necklace", If you don't have a hand kink you're gonna have one by the end of this story, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kinda Kinky, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mental Anguish, Mental Coercion, Misunderstandings, More angst, Mystery, Near Death Experiences, Needles, Partial Mind Control, Pelvic Exam, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Psychological Torture, Rey is cold, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Side Effects, Slow Burn, Space is cold, Starvation, Symbolism, Tension, The First Order, The Force, Torture, Training, Vaccinations, a lot of tension, and yet its still probably a slow burn, collaring, communication is important, graphic depiction of a medical exam, if you squint you can see more kink, kindof feels like mind rape but i feel not good about that tag, like super slow burn, mental violation, oc knights of ren - Freeform, this fic is mindless self indulgence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 73
Words: 325,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22387195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veggieheist/pseuds/Veggieheist
Summary: Kylo Ren was supposed to go to Jakku to find information on Luke's whereabouts, but the Force-sensitive girl in the slaver's auction was too interesting to leave behind.Rey has only ever known the life of a slave on Jakku, bought and sold from master to master, but the mysterious and terrifying creature who now owns her is like no master she's ever had before.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 2827
Kudos: 1502





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so this is some mindless self indulgence to help me overcome occasional writer's block that I run into with my other, more serious post-TLJ canon fic, 'The Connection Between Stars'.  
> It's not betaed, and I don't have a plot planned out like TCBS, but please enjoy this slave fic anyways! :D
> 
> **[EDIT April 8, 2020]** So as I post chapter 23 today, I decided to say here that this story has turned into much more than mindless self indulgence. It started out that way, but by chapter 7 or so I knew I had something else with this fic. The quality and length of chapters has increased, as well as the layering and plot (I've got a plot outline now! :D ). So I recommend to give this story a chance. It starts out simple but boy, has it reached a new level (if I do say so myself 😁✨).

* * *

Auction day. The worst day of any slave's life. A day of truly being reduced down to nothing but a purchasable good. A thing. Property. 

Rey was no stranger to them now, having been bought and sold four times since she was a child, but she hated auctions all the same. Hated being shackled and dragged about as people poked and prodded and stripped you of every scrap of dignity you have only to make a face and move onto the next poor creature in chains. 

She was usually a hot commodity at auctions, being so young and attractive and yet ‘pure’, having been owned mostly by women until her most recent master, Troog, a Gorgon male who eyed her more than once (much to her utter discomfort, although there wasn’t anything to do about it should he progress to something more physical about his want of her) but in the end kept his nasty hands to himself, “to fetch a better price fer ya at the block,” he had said.

He’d gotten some offers over the years from people who wanted to buy her from him, having seen how useful she was at the mechanical shop he operated, but he always refused with a greasy smile and a scratch of his fat chin.

“She’s the best mechanic I got right now, ye see. Can’t do away with her quite yet, sorry. I’ve got a right good droid what does some good work I could sell ya instead though!” And off he went, somehow always managing to get the buy, if not for what they might need then definitely for something they didn’t need at all.

It was due to that skill that he probably thought he could sell her off today, even after ‘the incident.’

He tried brushing ‘the incident’ off, tried placating people’s fears, but soon enough people stopped coming to his shop because they knew she was there. He started losing too much business, losing too much money. 

When before he was surly but occasionally generous towards her, now he was mean and spiteful. More than once Rey found herself on the opposite end of his whip when he’d only ever used it on thieves before. 

She tried explaining the incident, tried telling him why she’d done what she did, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Blamed her for it. Blamed her for everything bad that was happening, even things that weren’t her fault.

Eventually he came to the decision that selling her was the only way to cleanse his life and shop of her reputation.  
  
Selling her in town wasn’t going to result in any sort of profit for him whatsoever, so he dragged her all the way to Niima Outpost to see what he could get for her.

Somehow Rey knew something terrible was going to happen there. 

She got these feelings sometimes. These unexplainable but strong convictions that something was going to happen. Oftentimes she had no idea what would occur until right before disaster struck, but other times she could just look at something or someone and know they had something coming for them. Something bad. And she had a bad feeling about Niima Outpost.

Even though they’d trekked three days through the blaring heat and stinging sand of Jakku to get as far from the rumors of her as possible, there was still a wariness among the buyers as Rey was led up to the sandstone platform at the front of the crowd. 

Whispers of “witch” slithered through the gathered people, and Rey snuck a glance at Troog. He looked like he’d stepped in Bantha shit, but in the next moment his face changed into his most winning smile ( if missing teeth didn’t put you off).

“I got a real prize for you today, my friends. A ‘witch’ this one’s been called, but only because of the amazing skills she’s got with a tool in her hand. A ‘mechanical witch’, I’ll tell ya…!”

Rey tuned him out, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of so many people. Her wrists hurt, shackled tightly behind her back, and she’d been stripped down to her chest wraps and loincloth. More than a few of the gazes were on the leering side, and she prayed to any gods or goddesses that existed that her next master didn’t intend to take the last bit of herself she had left. 

_Whoever is out there in the universe, controlling the fates of all us slaves, Please, please send me to someone kind,_ She thought. And then, realizing the impossibility of such a request, amended it. _Or at least someone not terribly cruel_. 

The bidding began, a slow start until Troog mentioned her penchant for learning ‘all kinds of skills’ with a suggestive grin. Then the crowd got excited. 

Rey tried to shut it all out, to find the gentle place in her mind from her dream: the island surrounded by fathomless cold water. Imagining it had always soothed her, as if the island itself was a person embracing her from the inside. 

But it was just so kriffing hot. And the bids were getting louder, so Troog was getting louder, and the slave child next in line was crying loudly, so it was just impossible to concentrate. 

There was a slither of something cold in the back of her mind as she stood morosely in the simmering heat, something foreign and strange, and on some strange instinctive level of awareness, she looked up. 

Her eyes met the gaze of a man shrouded in a black hood and robes, standing far in the back but so tall that he had no problem being seen over the crowd. No problem seeing her. He was wearing a mask, the silver outlining the visor the only light thing about him, and even though his eyes weren’t visible she still knew that he was looking at her. That they were sharing a gaze. 

The cold tingles moved down her spine, making gooseflesh appear on her skin in spite of the incredible heat of the afternoon. Somehow she knew this man was like her. A ‘witch’, for lack of a better word. Which meant this man was dangerous. 

Her stare was broken as Troog yanked on her arm, pulling her close, and she glared at him from beneath her lashes. She was tired, and in pain from such a long trek on foot, and she hated that this was happening again even though she knew it would happen again, and she hated all of the people here gawking at her, leering at her exposed body, but still only seeing her as a thing. She hated all of them. 

She clenched her teeth and kept her eyes on the ground, not wanting to give them another reason not to buy her all the same. Troog would beat her tonight for sure if she caused him to lose the sell by showing too much attitude. A mouthy slave was not attractive.

But as she tried to calm herself, a voice drifted into her mind, hers and yet not hers.

_Fight,_ It whispered. _Fight back._

She looked up and saw the masked man had moved closer, standing completely still among the animated throng of buyers who were calling out their bids. 

He was challenging her. She knew it. 

But how could she fight? She was in shackles—

Suddenly she could feel the shackles click open, and she froze. As long as she didn’t move her arms, no one would know. She glanced at Troog. He’d kill her for sure if she did something now. 

But still she looked to the masked man. He tilted his head slightly, looking somewhere to her right. She followed his secret gaze, seeing one of the auction guards holding an electrostick. For the more wayward slaves. 

She looked back at the man, brows creased, heart thundering. 

_Fight,_ The whisper came again, and images flashed in her mind, images of all the times she’d been beaten, yelled at, degraded, bought, sold, and made to do the hardest of labor in the hottest of conditions. The images from the ‘incident’ started to play but she stopped them, not wanting to remember. The others were enough. 

The memories fueled her, made her fists and jaw clench, made her muscles tense, her nostrils flare in indignation and fury. Those closest to the front visibly shuddered, trying to back away from her in vain. The crowd was too dense now that Troog had them bidding in a crazed way.

But within a heartbeat, Rey let the shackles drop from her wrists and swung to elbow the guard in the middle with all her strength, wrenching the electrostick from his hands as he doubled over, wheezing. She brought the weapon up, slamming his face, and turned to defend the second guard’s attack before the first had even hit the ground. 

The second one tried shocking her, but she was too quick, too used to moving out of the way (always out of the way, never being a obstacle in anyone’s path, never thinking she was worth the insults thrown her way when she did bump into someone), and batted it away with her stick before using the opening in his stance to shock him in the chest. He jerked for a moment as the current passed through him, but he was big, much bigger than the other guard, and he reached up to grab the stick and pull it from his body, almost taking it from her grasp. 

A third goon jumped in, wrapping his arms around her middle, trying to lift her up, but it only helped her to kick the big guard in the face, freeing her stick so she could swing it up and stab the goon in the neck. 

He released her with a jumbled howl as the electric current caused him to seize, and Rey looked around at the frantic crowd, running this way and that, some running towards the stage to help subdue the wayward slave, but the man in black walked forward slowly, unbothered, his eyes still on her, the coldness of his presence still heavy on the back of her mind, but the momentary distraction was enough for Troog to snap out of his stupor.

He roared, grabbing her with his giant hands, the eletrostick dropped, forgotten in her sudden blinding fear, and he lifted her up, high above his head, and she knew this was it, this was the end as he threw her down to the hard sandstone floor.

She hit hard, everything going black for a moment before the unmistakable feeling of a large hand closing around her throat and lifting her up by it woke her. She clawed uselessly at his arm and hand, trying to breathe, trying to fight against the pain and lack of oxygen and she promises she didn’t know what she was doing and she promises she won’t do it again so _please, please, don’t kill me, master, please don’t kill me—_

Black spots grew in her vision as she felt herself go weak with the dizziness in her brain. 

Tears sprang to her eyes as she calmly thought, _at least in death I will be free._

And then she was released, crumpling to the ground in a coughing, wheezing heap. Her vision was blurry even after she blinked her tears away, everything having a dreamlike quality to it as she looked around in a daze.

The masked man was at the platform, his arm up, hand strained as if reaching for something, but as Rey turned her throbbing head she saw Troog clawing at his own throat, and she couldn’t understand how he could be floating in the air. What was keeping him up? 

But the act of trying to somehow justify what was going on was too much for her, just too much. 

She slumped to the floor, puffs of dust and sand the only thing she could focus her blurry vision on as she struggled for air. The black spots were back, filling her sight, but then two strong arms were beneath her, lifting her battered body, and she realized the blackness wasn’t in her eyes but from the masked man. He was carrying her. 

_No,_ Her mind screamed. _Bad. Evil. Dark. Run._

But she couldn’t run. Could barely struggle in his grip. She’d hit her head too hard on the stone floor, and nothing felt right. 

She tried pushing against his chest one last time, one last attempt at running from a creature she somehow knew had the capacity to do unimaginable acts of torture and cruelty to her, but he merely looked down at her—just a tilt of his mask, as his eyes were still not visible—and then a heavy thing pressed down on her mind, and everything went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sept 20, 2020 Edit] I drew a thing! 😁✨  
> 
> 
> [You can see close-ups here!](https://veggieheist.tumblr.com/post/629738774695444480/there-was-a-slither-of-something-cold-in-the-back)


	2. Stolen Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren takes things that don't belong to him.

Kylo Ren had no idea what had possessed him to do what he did on that Force-forsaken desert planet. He was there for a mission, a mission that should have been done and then he should have left the whole sandy junkyard behind. 

But as he finished ‘interrogating’ his key suspect, he’d felt something in the Force. A voice, calling out, pleading. Normally such pained cries fell on his deaf ears in vain, but the fact that he could hear it through the Force made him pause. 

He’d wandered out of the hut made of rags and tattered tapestries, letting the Force guide him to where he felt the disturbance. 

And that was when he’d first glimpsed the girl. The slave.

There was no doubt it was she who had cried out in the Force because of the aura she gave off. She was Force-sensitive, although he could tell she was untrained. The power she held was a mere glimmer, and as he swept out his senses to fully grasp it she surprised him by looking up right at him, as if she knew. 

She could sense him too, and she was afraid. 

The girl was practically naked on the platform, arms bound behind her, and she was hunched in on herself, trying to make herself appear smaller even though Kylo could see the muscle beneath her tanned skin and could sense a bit of a fighter in her. Especially once the fat Gorgon he assumed was her master wrenched her arm, and red hot anger enveloped her like a spreading fire. 

Oh, she had the potential to be a very powerful Dark Side Force user. If he could train her, she could become a very worthy apprentice. But first he needed to see her fight. Needed to see how the Force could darken within her.

He reached out to her mind, just barely wrapping a tendril around it (she had almost no mental shields whatsoever), and tried to send his influence into her.

_Fight,_ He told her. _Fight back._

It would go against everything she’d been taught as a slave, and her initial reaction to his influence was rejection of the thought, but he wouldn’t be swayed. He reached out with the Force and with barely a thought unlocked the shackles binding her wrists. He saw her freeze, look at her master in slight worry, and then look back at him, as if in question. 

He looked to the left, at a guard standing a few feet from her right. If she could get the electrostick from him she might have a fighting chance at escape. Once she did he’d find her and bring her back to the _Finalizer_. 

She looked to the guard, and then back at Kylo, her adrenaline spiking her Force signature. 

_Fight,_ He whispered, pushing in a little deeper into her mind, pulling thoughts and memories of her treatment forward, showing her things he knew would make her angry again, knew would make her want to thrash and beat against the ones who had chained her. He found a memory that trembled with darkness and tried to access it, tried to bring it up with the rest, but he was surprised once again by her mind actually resisting him, keeping him from it. 

No matter. She was angry enough now. He could feel her hatred of those who had wronged her, of those who had demeaned and degraded her. Her whole body transformed with her fury, the shackles dropping as she became a whirlwind of bronze skin and fight. 

Her moves were impressive for a slave, but she’d probably had to learn to defend herself and her master’s property. With training she could become lethal. 

The girl was doing well, somehow managing to disarm and beat down three grown men, and he walked forward through the fleeing crowd, watching her attentively. She looked up, breathing hard, sweat shining on her flushed skin, and their gaze met once again. 

But then her master looked at the chaos around them and roared, and all of the fight fled her with the potential buyers as he grabbed her by her arm and thigh, hefting her up over his slimy head, and threw her down to the stone floor with enough force that it could have killed a weaker person.

Kylo trembled, fists clenched at his sides, breath coming in harshly through his mask, the sand and small stones at his feet shimmering and shaking as he watched the disgusting thing pick her up by her throat and begin to squeeze the life out of her. 

He could not let her master kill her. 

She was **_his_**. 

As she weakened, the light within her—the life-Force—began to flicker and dim. There was no time to waste. Kylo had to decide now or never. 

He raised his arm, now at the edge of the platform, and sent a shockwave of the Force outwards directed at the Gorgon. He stumbled to the side, dropping the girl, and Kylo was quick to Force choke him, wanting him to feel what he’d been doing to the slave girl, wanting him to suffer the way she’d suffered, feeling it somehow poetic and right that he should die the way he’d been about to kill the girl. 

It didn’t take long.

The large body fell, forgotten and lifeless. Kylo turned to the girl, who was struggling to breathe, lying on her side, her eyes fluttering as her chest heaved. 

As gently as he knew how to be, he slid his arms beneath her body and lifted her. She weighed barely anything, and now that he could see her up close he could tell she was desperately malnourished, even in spite of her musculature. 

She struggled against him weakly, her stunned mind sensing the darkness within him, trying to get away. She would get used to it in time. She struggled again, a hand pressed against his chest with barely any pressure, and he looked down at her dazed eyes, noting the freckles that adorned her cheeks and nose, and sent a wave of power into her mind, sending her to sleep. 

He didn’t think about whether this was a good idea or not. He didn’t think about whether the Supreme Leader would punish him for doing something so rash without permission. He just knew he wanted her. 

If the stormtroopers guarding his ship gave him strange looks as he carried her onboard, Kylo didn’t know it. He could feel their slight hesitance, their want for an explanation, before their conditioning kicked in and they set to work powering up the ship and fetching him the medkit he asked for.   
  
He sat on his haunches beside her prone form laid out on a bench seat. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, maybe nineteen years old. The Force hummed beneath her golden skin, now at even starker contrast among the black and steel and harsh lights of his command shuttle. She was likely concussed, but that would heal. He set to work cleaning the large cut on her temple from when she was thrown to the ground, the area around it already swelling and bruising. 

She was covered in smaller cuts and scrapes, not to mention old scars, and as his gaze swept over her half-naked form Kylo felt a strange warmth slide down his spine and quickly shut his eyes to the image in front of him. He took deep breaths, finding a place of dark control within himself, and then stood, pulling off his cowl and draping it over the slave girl’s body. 

He turned to the console, bracing his arms against it as the ship moved up into the atmosphere, into the cold vacuum of space, towards the Star Destroyer he called home. 

Somewhere in the pit of his stomach Kylo had a feeling this was not going to turn out the way he thought it would. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Kylo sees if 'better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission' actually works or not.


	3. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo deals with disapproval from all sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is hella short, but next chapter is gonna be twice as long ;)

General Hux’s face as Kylo descended the ramp of his shuttle went from his usual haughty disdain to one of thinly veiled disgust. Kylo had wrapped the girl in his cowl as best he could before hefting her into his arms, but the matter still remained that he was even bringing someone back at all.

“What’s this?” Hux sneered as he moved to match Kylo’s pace. “A souvenir? I didn’t think your code allowed for such frivolities Ren.” 

“She is of no concern to you,” He intoned, placing her on the medcot he’d requested, directing his next words to the medical droid assisting. 

“Patch her up and then put her in my quarters.” The droid beeped and moved away with the girl. Kylo willed himself not to watch her go.

Hux had no such qualms, his feelings about the situation showing plainly on his pale face. He turned his icy eyes to Kylo.

“Supreme Leader will not stand for this.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware you were speaking on his behalf, General,” Kylo snapped back. He began moving away swiftly, needing to get to one of the conference rooms so he could communicate with Leader Snoke privately. The girl was an improvisation in his mission that he would have to take account for, but he was confident the Supreme Leader would allow him to train her. Hux didn’t know what he was talking about.

“That desert rat will not stay on this ship, Ren.” 

Kylo stopped, once more overcome with the desire to cut the insufferable officer in half. 

“That is not for you to decide, General.” And then he continued to the lift. 

* * *

Supreme Leader Snoke was not happy.

Kylo Ren’s mission to gather more information as to the whereabouts of Luke Skywalker had been successful, but acquiring the slave girl was an executive decision he had no right to make. 

“She’s Force-sensitive, master. I can train her—“

“You already have two apprentices,” Snoke growled, “And she is not strong with the Force, otherwise I would have sensed her. You’ve brought a stray mutt into the First Order when we only accept purebreds. I am very disappointed in your arrogance Kylo Ren.” The blue holo of his face showing nearly the same distaste that Hux had shown.

Kylo bowed his head, breathing deeply to keep his dark emotions at bay. 

“What would you have me do with her then?”

“Throw her out.”

“She has skills.”

“Oh I’m sure she does,” Snoke sneered. “You should be above such base desires Lord Ren, but I suppose your youthful instinct to spread your seed is a burden you’ve yet to outgrow.”

Kylo clenched his fists, back ramrod straight. 

“I have no such designs for her. Truly I meant only to train her in the Dark side. She’s an impressive fighter, even for one uneducated in the forms. Her size and quickness could lend her enough natural skill to become a very efficient assassin for our cause.” 

“Are your methods no longer good enough, Lord Ren? Have you lost faith in your training already?”

“No, Supreme Leader. My faith is strong.” It was a good thing he had his mask, or the words spoken through his grit teeth would have garnered him swift punishment. “I only think my methods will not serve us well when the Resistance closes ranks further and disappears. If we can train her she could slip through their cracks and help us destroy them from the inside.” 

Snoke appeared to consider his words, or perhaps was sifting through Kylo’s surface thoughts for any false truths. When he spoke it was with a voice of finality, leaving no room for discussion or objection.

“Your point is noteworthy, Lord Ren, but once Starkiller base is functional and we wipe out the Galactic Republic the Resistance will have nowhere in the galaxy to hide. We don’t need anymore spies. We need warriors. We need Knights. Her power is a cupful compared to the ocean you and your Knights possess, and so therefore she is worthless.” Kylo felt himself burying the dread he was feeling deep within himself. If Snoke commanded him to push her out an airlock, he would not disobey, but a part of him mourned the idea. There was something about her, something Leader Snoke couldn’t see. Kylo knew she was special.

But Snoke’s next carefully considered words surprised him. “You may keep her as a servant, as all great Lords need those who perform their menial tasks in their stead. Even I have such underlings. Perhaps she can be of some use to you there. But a warning, Young Kylo,” Snoke’s holo leaned forward, the threat in his eyes glimmering with deadly intent. “If she becomes a distraction there will be no words to describe the consequences you will face. You are already showing a pattern of compassion towards lowly creatures, and I am beginning to doubt my decision to put so much faith in you. Go. I tire of this matter.” And then the holo flickered out before Kylo could deign a tensely respectful goodbye. 

He stood still in the quiet, fists clenching and unclenching, breath strained as he tried to keep his emotions reigned in. 

Compassion? _Compassion?_ He had no compassion. He had no heart, no soul, no morality. Not anymore. His acquiring of the girl was for selfish purposes only. It had nothing to do with compassion.

His robes moved about his legs as he pivoted around stiffly and made to leave the room, slamming his fist against the control panel when the doors were too slow to open. The panel sparked behind him, the doors likely stuck open now but that was a problem for engineering. 

He had more important things to attend to.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has Rey waking up and meeting her new master...


	4. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey wakes up and meets her new master..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?  
> It's more likely than you think.
> 
> (especially since I've written out enough of this story for about six chapters (: After that updates might be more spread out.)

* * *

Rey woke up slowly to a slight throbbing behind her closed eyes. Pain was one of two sensations she could feel, but the only one that felt normal. The other one was cold, and that was _not_ normal. 

She shivered, curling in on her side to keep some warmth in. Why was it so cold? Had Jakku finally frozen over? If so, she owed Bechanko a kiss. 

She pillowed her hands beneath her head and decided the day’s work wasn’t going to do itself so she might as well will get up and push through whatever beating she’d received yesterday. But as she blearily opened her eyes she was met not with the familiar sandy hues of her ratty shack but sleek durasteel and cold artificial light. The room greeting her was all hard lines and stark furnishings, the place even more impersonal and bare than her own living space, and that was saying something. 

A constant hum in the air and in her bones told her she was on a ship. A starship. Not on Jakku. 

Her eyes widened. What the _kriff_ happened yesterday?

She wracked her brain as she slowly sat up on the bed she’d been laid out on, grabbing the blanket that had fallen halfway off and wrapping herself with it as she shivered.

The auction. She was being sold. She obviously _was_ sold because this definitely wasn’t anything Troog owned. 

But why couldn’t she remember any of it? She touched her temple where it felt tight, her fingertips brushing over a bactapatch. 

Did her new master beat the memory out of her? Is that why she was so bruised? And oh how bruised she was—a large purple welt was forming on her hip, as well as her knee, ribs, and shoulder.   
  
Maker, did she get thrown into a wall or something? 

She swallowed and then immediately winced. Her throat was dry but it felt like she’d swallowed bush prickles. She brushed her hands over her neck and felt tenderness there. So she’d been strangled, too.

Her heart began to pound. What sort of monster had she been sold to? She looked around, trying to find a clue as to who or what her new master was, but there was nothing. She opened the blanket and checked that her wraps and lioncloth were still intact and hadn’t been tampered with, going so far as to cup and prod her female parts to check for any soreness that might betray that she’d been violated completely at some point. But there was none.

She breathed a small sigh of relief. 

On shaky legs she stood, feeling a wave of gooseflesh shoot through her as her bare feet hit the cold durasteel floor. She wrapped the blanket tighter. 

There was a datapad on the small table across from the bed. It was a newer model, sleek and shiny, without any worn bits from sand or rough handling. 

Hesitantly she reached out and touched it. It was real. 

This was all real. 

Her curiosity had gotten her into a lot of trouble growing up, but picking up the datapad and turning it on was probably the worst thing she’d ever done. If her new master hadn’t beaten her enough yesterday, he’d certainly do worse today if he found her snooping on something so private. 

But what if it was connected to the holonet? There was a whole galaxy of information yet for her to learn, and she’d already poured through the information available on Jakku (what little of it she could dig up or barter for). 

The screen lit up, and her heart fell. It was password protected. She could find a way around it given enough time but she had no idea—

The door in the other room slid open just as a feeling of darkness washed over her, and she all but threw the datapad down on the table, stepping away from it quickly. 

A dark figure stormed into the main room adjacent to the one she was in now, his whole body tense and angry, waves of something terrifying coming off of him that made Rey shiver for a different reason. 

So this was him. She could hardly remember what happened yesterday but the sight of his imposing height and head to toe black coverings and robes, not to mention the mask, was disturbingly familiar. 

She opened her mouth to greet him, even through her fear, remembering her training, falling back into her conditioning, but he had a metal tube in his hand in the next second and then suddenly it wasn’t just a metal tube, it was a _flaming sword_. 

With a metallic roar he brought the sword up and then down, slashing through small table by a low couch, completely cutting it in half, but he didn’t stop there. He kept hacking at it, the heat from the blade making quick work of the durasteel of the table until it was a molten mess on the floor. 

Rey trembled, her whole body quaking, even in spite of her attempts to quell the tremors and even in spite of how tightly she had the blanket wrapped around her. 

He was going to kill her. In the next moment he would turn and see her and he would descend upon her with his angry red sword and cut her in half like he’d cut the table. 

Whatever reason he’d bought her for, it didn’t matter. Not in the face of his uncontrollable rage. 

Rey swallowed and regretted the act immediately as it caused her to cough. He whirled around, muscles tense, hands gripping the sword, ready for a fight, and Rey froze. 

They both froze. 

She stared at where his eyes probably were until her training kicked back in and she dropped her gaze as she fell to her knees on the cold floor, nose almost touching the ground.

“Forg—“ She coughed, her voice hoarse and warbly as she spoke. “Forgive me, master, for startling you.” 

His ragged breathing, metallic through the mask, and the thundering of her heart in her ears were the only sounds in the rooms. She kept her head down, praying that should he decide to use his blade on her he would make it a swift cut at her neck. She didn’t want to feel any pain.

His footsteps coming towards her jolted her heart into such a race that she worried it might have actually stopped in her chest. She trembled as the jagged sound of the blade drew closer, the red glow reflecting on the durasteel just ahead of where her head was bowed. His boots stopped at the edge of her vision. She waited, holding her breath, trying to hold her body still, waiting, waiting. 

There was a hissing sound and the red glow disappeared, as did the small amount of heat that had emanated from it. Maker, she was so cold. The durasteel beneath her bare legs was sucking all the warmth from her. She wondered if she had any warmth left to give at this point. Could she feel any colder?

His metallic voice made her jump, bringing her from her thoughts.

“Get up.”

She rose to her feet quickly, gripping the edges of the blanket and squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she breathed to keep the sudden dizziness from making her collapse. 

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, training them on his chest. Never look them in the eyes when they ask the first time. It’s always a trap. 

He seemed to be studying her, his head dipping as he looked her up and down. Should she drop the blanket? Was this an inspection? 

Wait. 

Her heart stopped. Were these _his_ rooms? Was this _his_ blanket? And she was holding onto it with her unclean hands? No doubt this was what he was waiting for her to discover, having remained silently appraising her for the past minute (it felt like an hour though). 

Rey took in a deep breath, trying to somehow hold in the warmth, and then with mournful slowness released her hold on the fabric and let the blanket slip the floor at her feet. The cold slammed into her, almost knocking her breath from her chest, and she began shivering with a new fervor. 

What a pitiful sight she must be, bruised and half naked and trembling. She didn’t usually look this bad on her first day with a new master and wondered if he regretted purchasing her. 

How much did she end up costing anyways? She can’t remember the final bid, can hardly remember being put up on the auction block either. 

And somehow it was this man’s fault she couldn’t remember. 

Was he proud of the marks he’d put on her skin? Amused at her fear? Her pain? Near the end with Troog he’d become quite gleeful of the bruises and lashes he left on her body, as if very one of them paid him back some of the profits he’d lost because of her and the ‘incident.’ 

What had she ever done to this dark creature? Or was he one of those who hurt others for pleasure? 

This sudden silence from her new master was causing her thoughts to run rampant. He was just standing there, looking at her. An uncomfortableness washed over Rey and she blinked, realizing in some part of her mind that it wasn’t her own. 

It was his.

He was the one uncomfortable.

Could this day get any stranger?

He moved suddenly—causing Rey to flinch—walking around her to pick up the datapad on the table. Rey squeezed her eyes shut again, hoping he wouldn’t find out she’d touched it, but at the same time a part of her wished he would just hit her already so she wouldn’t be caught up in all of this suspense. Her chest was beginning to hurt with all of the anxious pounding her heart was doing.

He typed something onto the datapad and then moved away again, into the other room, leaving her standing in the freezing cold without a word. 

When he came back he seemed much more collected, although how she knew that Rey wasn’t sure.

“Pick that up.” He commanded, indicating with his head to the blanket at her feet. “Cover yourself.”  
  
Face blazing she did as she was told, welcoming the respite from the cold but feeling ashamed of herself in a way she hadn’t before. 

“What’s your name?” He asked when she’d wrapped the blanket tight around her once more.

Another trick question. 

“I have no name.” She lied mechanically. “I am called ‘girl’ or ‘slave.’” She’d been asked that question before and given the truthful answer, which had earned her a hard backhand to the face. 

_‘Only people have names, kriff, pets have names, but you’re nothing. You don’t get to have a name. Do you understand? You have no name.’_

His head tilted, his filtered voice contemplative. “You’re afraid of me, but you’re not afraid to lie to me. Interesting.” Rey felt the blood drain from her face.

He continued before she could apologize profusely. “No matter, ‘Girl’ will do.”

She nodded hastily. “Whatever pleases you, master.” 

He took in a couple steady breaths, still staring at her. She could feel his phantom eyes on her face, and it made her skin prickle uncomfortably. 

Finally he spoke. “You’ll address me as ‘Lord Ren’, not ‘master’. You haven’t earned the right to call me ‘master’.”

Rey frowned. What did that mean, she hadn’t earned the right? Was she not his? Or was she in some sort of auditioning period? If she displeased him, was he going to get rid of her?

Maker, this was just too much to think about. 

“Girl?”

She blinked, quickly answering him. “Yes, Lord Ren.”

Ren. Lord Ren. Where had she heard that name before?

The main door to the rooms beeped an alert, drawing both of their gazes. Rey began to move towards it out of habit but Lord Ren held a hand out, stopping her.

“Stay.”

She nodded, rooting herself to the spot as he checked the screen by the door, and then with the wave of a hand the door opened. 

That’s a handy configuration, she thought. Wave-activated doors. How far away does it work? Does it only recognize certain people’s waves? Would he allow her wave-access to his quarters? 

A droid stood partly visible in the doorway from where Rey was standing. Lord Ren took a folded bundle from it and then dismissed it, coming back to her as the door closed behind him. 

He handed her the items.

“Use the ‘fresher, then put these on. This is a First Order ship, not a brothel. Your state of dress is unbecoming of anything onboard.”

Rey blanched, forgetting her place momentarily enough to look up at his face, indignant.

“I’m not—I wasn’t a _pleasure slave_.” 

“No?”

“No! I was—“ a mechanic technically, but only free people could be called mechanics. Her voice lowered to a mumble. “I worked with machines. Building things, fixing things.”

Oh maker, did he buy her thinking she was a pleasure slave? Did she just put the final bolt in her coffin? A part of her didn’t want to be thrown into an airlock but a larger part would rather die than be used in such a way. She saw what the pleasure slaves looked like. They were even more soulless than she. Hopeless, lifeless eyes. No shame or sense of self anymore. 

Rey shuddered, gripping the clothes and blanket tighter to her chest. 

“Be that as it may,” he said tensely, interrupting her thoughts. “You look like a whore.” 

The slur sent a shock through her, and the shame came back full-force. She didn’t choose to look this way. What did he expect, buying her dressed like this? Did he think she came with anything else? She was lucky to have the scraps of cloth covering her now, much less a full outfit. Clothes cost money. No doubt Troog had sold her old pants and tunics already. 

“Use the ‘fresher.” He commanded sharply, pointing to another door on the other side of the small table. He pointed to the clothes in her arms. “Dress yourself. Ten minutes.” 

Ten? She could do it in three.

“Yes, Lord Ren.” 


	5. Introductions Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions happen from Kylo's point of view...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote quite a bit more for this story today, which was fun :) I have about three more chapters completed after this one, so as I stagger the chapter updates I'll take a little break from writing 'Chains' and get back to writing chapter 8 of 'The Connection Between Stars' . If you're interested in a canon-compliant post-TLJ fic with hella mental depth, please check it out! :)

The girl was terrified. Kylo could practically taste it in the air, such was the profound fear rolling off of her in waves. Coming into the room in a fury and destroying the table had been yet another loss of control on his part, but in the end it seemed to have worked in his favor by making an example of the consequences of his ire without him having to make an example of the girl. 

Now she knew, and if she was smart she’d remember it. Making him mad was a fatal mistake.

He thought he’d been in control of the situation until she’d dropped the blanket. She was cold, that much was obvious by the small quakes along her tiny frame and the way she’d wrapped the fabric around herself tightly, which is why when the look of resignation passed over her face and she exposed herself to him he was not prepared. 

He’d seen scantily clothed women before, the first time being as a young boy when that unscrupulous man took him on one of his ‘adventures’, ending in a grungy cantina with more than a few ‘working women’ walking about, because apparently that’s where all fathers take their sons when they attempt at bonding. 

But this was different. He wasn’t a young boy and the girl wasn’t a prostitute. She was a slave. One that he’d stolen, granted, but a slave nonetheless. 

Was this part of some kind of Jakku slave/master ritual? Did she expect him to bed her? He tensed, a growing uneasiness in his gut making it difficult to keep his eyes on her. She was covered in bruises and cuts, her throat purpling from when she’d been strangled, her eyes bloodshot for the same reason. And she was trembling like they were on Hoth, not a temperature-regulated room. Her lips were turning purple.

She needed clothes. There was no way she was going to walk around the ship looking like that. He had no intention of making the officers onboard think she was here for anything related to the carnal desires, which meant she needed a respectable wardrobe. 

He moved around her to the table—noting the way she flinched as he did—and grabbed his datapad. 

Hm. She’d touched it. There were fingerprints, which he never left because he always wore his gloves. No matter. It was an encrypted device, and he doubted she even knew what a datapad was, much less how to break into one password protected. 

He sent a request for clothes and then swept by her again to the main room to gather his senses and force himself into a state of mental control and stoicism. 

Kylo realized he didn’t know the first thing about owning a slave, or even a personal servant. His Knights served him but not as lowly subordinates. They were equals, more or less, and he was their teacher. He didn’t have much experience ordering about the First Order troops because that was Hux and Captain Phasma’s job. 

He would not be overcome by this. He could give orders. She no doubt was used to following them. She listened to him on Jakku well enough, although it had resulted in her current physical state (one he noted she didn’t seem too perturbed about, seeming to actually fight through the pain he knew she was feeling in order to stand at attention so mechanically). 

His mind once again a durasteel block of unfeelings and general seethingness, he went back to where she was still standing, shivering, half naked. Those scraps of cloth barely left anything to the imagination, which he understood was probably the point for the auction block but completely inappropriate for the current situation. And yet she was still there, unashamed.

Would she stand there all day if he left her alone? He wasn’t sure and didn’t want to find out.

“Pick that up.” He commanded, motioning to the blanket she’d dropped. “Cover yourself.” 

She seemed relieved to wrap herself once more, embarrassment coloring her cheeks red. _So she does have some shame._

“What’s your name?” He asked. The sooner they could get the introductions over with the sooner he could figure out what the hell to do with her now that he wasn’t allowed to train her. 

He expected her to answer him, but was surprised to sense that she was lying when she told him she had no name. 

He considered her for a moment, trying to figure out why she would lie to him. 

“You’re afraid of me, but you’re not afraid to lie to me.” He pondered aloud. “Interesting.” The blush on her cheeks was gone in an instant, the tan skin going slightly pale as her anxiety spiked. 

“No matter.” He said dismissively. “‘Girl’ will do.” Calling her Slave felt wrong somehow. 

She nodded quickly, the three buns she had her hair in bouncing.

“Whatever pleases you, master.”

Ah. That’s a strange feeling—being called master by someone not his apprentice. By someone who used it in a very different context. The feeling was a sort of jolt down his spine, somewhat unpleasant and yet a little too pleasant at the same time. _Let’s not have any of that anymore_.

“You’ll address me as ‘Lord Ren’, not ‘master’. You haven’t earned the right to call me ‘master’.” 

Perhaps someday she would prove herself to Snoke and would be allowed to apprentice as a Knight, but until then hearing her call him ‘master’ was inappropriate.

Her confusion was understandable. A master not wanting to be called such? Technically he never bought her, so technically she wasn’t his, although he wondered idly if stealing slaves counted as legal change in ownership on places like Jakku. 

She still hadn’t responded. 

“Girl?”

She blinked, answering him quickly. “Yes, Lord Ren.” 

Yes, that was much better.

The door alerted him his items had arrived. He stopped her as she began to move towards it, probably out of habit from her previous owner. For now he wanted to keep her out of sight of anyone on board. Especially dressed like this.

He accepted the clothes from the droid and sent it away, then went back to Girl and handed them to her. 

“Use the ‘fresher, then put these on. This is a First Order ship, not a brothel. Your state of dress is unbecoming of anything onboard.”

The first glimpse of the fighter he saw on the auction block flared to life in her eyes as she finally looked up at him. 

“I’m not—I wasn’t a _pleasure slave_ ,” She said with an air of someone insulted. 

This surprised Kylo. “No?” Could’ve fooled him.

“No!” She repeated indignantly. “I was…” Her voice faltered, her eyes dropping again. “I worked with machines. Building things. Fixing things.”

A mechanic? That could be useful. He would have to see how much her mechanical and engineering knowledge went. 

But after she put on some kriffing clothes first.

“Be that as it may,” he said, trying to bring them back to the main problem at hand. “You look like a whore.” 

The red was back in her face, and he wondered if her skin was as warm as it looked. 

He scolded himself. _That is not a thought to entertain_.

“Use the ‘fresher.” He commanded sharply, pointing to the refresher door. Then he pointed to the clothes in her arms. “Dress yourself. Ten minutes.” 

Her eyes cleared and her face set into seriousness as she fell back into her slave conditioning. She nodded.

“Yes, Lord Ren.” 

And then she turned and disappeared into the ‘fresher, the door hissing shut behind her.

Kylo breathed out a long sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. 

_What the hell had he gotten himself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Rey experiences a water shower, gets some food, but good things never last for her...


	6. Luxury and Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey enjoys some luxuries, and experiences some consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see a note at the end of this chapter saying next chapter is Kylo being awkward, it's a lie and I don't know how to get rid of it. Next chapter is also Rey POV.  
> [EDIT] user valeriacatulli helped me figure out how to get rid of the false note! Thanks again :D

Rey couldn’t believe it. 

The ‘fresher had a _water shower_. Not just a sonic shower. _Water._ And Lord Ren had given her permission to use it. 

Water was such a scarcity on Jakku that the mere idea of a water shower was akin to a fantasy, a myth. The waste of such valuable resources was more frowned upon than murder.

She’d meant to challenge herself to get cleaned and dressed in far less time than what Lord Ren had allotted her, but as she stepped beneath the spray of _warm water_ she thought she could stay under it forever. 

Still, she didn’t want to anger him anymore than she already had, and so she allowed herself a minute to soak in the heat and novel comfort to her aching muscles and bruised skin and then set about scrubbing herself clean (as gently as possible, her injuries still so fresh and she wondered how someone who could do this much damage to her would give her such a treat as a warm water shower?).

She dried quickly, marveling at how clean her body looked before rewrapping her breasts and slipping the loincloth back on. They were gritty and dirty but she didn’t know where else to put them and like hell was she going to leave them in Lord Ren’s ‘fresher. 

The clothes he gave her were the softest things she’d ever had on her skin. They were all black, long pants and long sleeves, and much too large for her small frame, but she didn’t mind. They would provide far more warmth and coverage on this freezing ship, and if she rolled up the sleeves and pant legs they weren’t too much of a bother. She needed a belt to keep the pants up though, so she ripped a length of cloth from her wrap and used it to tie the pants tight around her waist.

She felt amazing as she stepped from the ‘fresher with four minutes to spare, her skin tingling pleasantly and her hair pulled back in three damp buns, and then she was hit with the smell of food and her whole body froze.

There was a tray on the table where the datapad had been, and on it was an array of foods. Rey stepped closer to it, slowly, staring at it. There was some sort of veg, a protein, and what looked like a mound of carbohydrate. 

But they weren’t synthetic. They weren’t all mushed together into dehydrated portions, providing the barest vitamins and minerals necessary to function. It was actual food. Real vegetables, real meat, and whatever the carbohydrate was it probably wasn’t heavily processed, it was real. 

And Rey realized in that moment she’d been fooled. 

This was another setup. 

He was luring her into a false sense of security before ripping it all from her, reminding her with a whip or cane or whatever his choice of ‘reminder tool’ he used that she deserved none of this. That she wasn’t worth the synthetic gruel he’d probably begrudgingly feed her after today. That she wasn’t worth anything outside of what labor she could provide, and even then, she’d be reminded that she could be easily replaced with a droid. 

This all she had been told before, many times. 

Her heart fell, the joy of her shower evaporated like spilled water on Jakku. This was a test, and she was determined to pass it this time.

Doing her best to ignore the food, Rey walked into the main room and stopped just inside the doorway. Lord Ren was accompanied by a floating black class-three droid that seemed to be berating him for the damage to the table.

“Your commentary is wholly unnecessary, L6,” Lord Ren grumbled. “I don’t know why you came at all; I sent for an astromech.”

L6 gave several low beeps and whirs back. <Just wanted to catalogue today’s damage and add it to your file.>

“We both know you don’t have a file on me, L6. I’d have to destroy you if you did.”

<You’re right. No file. At this capacity it is better classified as a literary archive.>

“Get out.”

The droid gave a single low tone, almost sounding annoyed, and pivoted midair to head for the door but stopped, it’s photosensor focusing on Rey’s frozen form in the adjacent doorway. L6 droned an identity inquiry at her, and her eyes swung to Lord Ren, who had stiffened perceptively and was now giving off dark vibes.

She remained quiet, not having been given permission to speak. Her master’s filtered voice had a warning rumble to it as he answered the droid’s repeated inquiry.

“She is here to serve me, L6. Her information has yet to be added to the database.”

The droid floated closer to her. <Shall I input identity data now?>

“No. Get out.”

<Identity data critical to security clearance—>

Lord Ren’s laser sword was back in his hand and ignited, spitting red heat and anger. L6 pivoted quickly with a low drone and left, beeping out <this is also going in your file> as it disappeared behind the hissing door.

Rey watched as Lord Ren’s grip tightened, his black gloves creaking under the stress, and she took a small step back, barely shifting her stance at all, but giving herself enough maneuverability to bolt back into the ‘fresher and lock it behind her should his sudden temper be directed at her. 

He’d likely break down the ‘fresher door and kill her anyways, but at least she’d give herself a few more minutes to live. And she’d be able to see the water again.

The small movement on her part was enough for him to sense, however, and his mask turned to her. After a moment where Rey swore she could hear the blood pumping through every vein in her ear canals, he thumbed the switch on his sword, the blade dying out with another strange hiss. 

Rey chewed on her lip and then stopped, remembering harsh words spoken by Troog telling her it was a disgusting habit. She couldn’t help the nervous tick though. She was truly at a loss right now. The smell of the food brought her back however.

She motioned halfheartedly at the table behind her. “Your food is getting cold, Lord Ren. I can oversee the repairs.”

He clipped the hilt to his wide belt. “The food is for you, and the droids can oversee themselves.”

Rey swallowed nervously. “I’m not hungry.”

He came towards her, stopping close enough to tower over her. He was incredibly tall, and incredibly large. He could probably crush her ribcage with his arms. Rey looked straight ahead, eyes trained on his chest as he spoke.

“That’s the second time you’ve lied to me. I’m beginning to think you’re a habitual liar, Girl.” 

She didn’t even bother trying to apologize or defend herself, just tensed for the impending blow. No doubt the hit would jar her still fresh wounds and probably knock her out, but at least it’d be over with. The first beating was always the most suspenseful one. 

But no blows came. 

“I don’t have patience for these games,” the Lord scolded gruffly. “Sit down and eat, or starve. I will not repeat myself again.” 

Games? Did he think she was just playing around? Acting coy? He was the one playing games.

He didn’t even give her time to react as he swiftly turned from her and left the rooms with a sweep of dark robes. When the door hissed shut behind him she felt a lightening of her head, as if she’d been in a compression chamber and some pressure had been let out. Somehow it was also easier to breathe.

She stood and stared at the tray, unsure if she should really be eating at her master’s table or if she should sit on the floor. She thought about just ignoring the food altogether and investigating the damage to the table.

But, not wanting to take for granted this additional novelty, Rey decidedly sat down at the table and looked closely at the food before her. Steam wafted lazily from it still, the aromas hitting her nose anew, making her mouth water. Without a second thought she picked up the spoon and tried the vegetables, never having eaten anything so naturally green before in her life. Flavor exploded in her mouth as she chewed, eliciting a sound from her she’d never made while eating food before. 

She tried the carb next, finding the texture slightly strange but whatever the mound was didn’t matter because it was _buttery_. This time tears sprang to her eyes, and she thanked the gods and goddesses and whatever else was out there for creating such a galaxy that something this flavorful and rich could exist. She also decided she would show proper thanks to Lord Ren when he got back for allowing her to eat it. 

There was a black carafe and accompanying cup on the table as well, and with little hesitance she poured herself a glass. There was no smell to the brownish liquid, but as she took a small sip she realized it was some sort of tea. It was bitter and tangy and not particularly pleasant, but the fact it was brewed with water made it priceless. She drank a full cup and then poured herself more, deciding to dig into the meat. 

Was this a dream? All of the flavors were so sharp and strong that it was almost unbelievable such an experience could happen outside of dreams. Her mind wasn’t imaginative enough to create something so complex however, and she accepted that this was real. 

It didn’t take her long to polish off the whole tray, her stomach aching with the foreign fullness as she licked the plate clean. Lord Ren still hadn’t returned, but she rather preferred him to be absent for this private experience of the senses. She would have felt too self conscious to eat in front of him, especially if he wasn’t going to eat with her.

She pushed the tray away thoughtfully. What did he even look like beneath the mask? Was he human? Or a humanoid species? Was he disfigured? Scaly? Did he even have a mouth capable of eating something like this? Were his teeth sharp or blunt? 

Her curiosity occupied her mind with a whirlwind of questions and imaginings until the soft gurgling of her stomach turned into a fierce roiling. She took another sip of the tea, hoping the coolness would ease the sudden nausea, but it did the opposite. She covered her mouth, breathing slowly and deeply, trying with all her might to settle her stomach with calm thoughts. They turned to pleading as bile burned the back of her throat. 

_Oh, maker, please don’t let me throw up this food. Please. Not this food. Not Lord Ren’s food. Please, please, please—_

She was up and scrambling for the ‘fresher in the next heartbeat, just barely managing to get to the toilet before her stomach heaved up the bulk of it’s contents. The only silver lining was that the food tasted good the second time around too, if a little acidic. 

She gagged a few more times, her stomach not quite happy leaving any bits of anything left. Tears from the force of it and from the loss streamed down her cheeks as she flushed the mess away. She sat by the toilet for a few minutes, just breathing through her soft sobs and lingering nausea. But she didn’t want to be caught like this.

She got up on shaky legs, washed her hands and face in the sink, marveling forlornly at the crispness of the water as she cleaned her mouth and drank a few handfuls, before cutting the tap and drying her face with the bottom of her shirt. 

She felt even more empty now than she did before eating. 

The tray was staring so mockingly at her from its place on the table. Why did it make her so sick? Was it poisoned? Was this Lord Ren’s plan, to have her eat something she didn’t deserve in order to teach her that giving into her desires meant suffering the consequences? Was he so cruel?   
  
She wanted to kick herself. She should have known better. Luxury food like that wasn’t meant to be even touched by something like her. She should have just refused it and taken the beating for it. She certainly wasn’t going to eat the next meal he tried to give her. 

What a cruel master, to taunt her with food when she hadn’t eaten right in days. Rey hated masters who played evil games like this.

Tired now from the efforts of her stomach and the tumultuous start to a new placement, still healing from a beating she couldn’t remember, and without any idea of what she should be doing otherwise since Lord Ren hadn’t given her any tasks, she took the blanket from where she’d left it, folded it over to make a thin pad, placed it in the corner of the bedroom, and curled up to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: if you've been living off of basically nothing and/or starving, don't eat a lot of heavy foods all at once. You'll get hella sick :)


	7. The First Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo start to have A Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Imbolc! We are halfway to spring :D Yay~   
> Also the Super Bowl is on later, which I will miss because I live in Japan and will be at work on Monday when it starts airing in America :U Plz eat delicious party foods for me :')
> 
> Anyways, I just wanted to say that I'm so happy this story has reached over 100 kudos, and almost 100 subs! It's a new achievement for me, and while I wish my other story 'The Connection Between Stars' was just as popular, I'm just very glad to have people enjoying my writing at all :D
> 
> I hope you like this chapter!

“Girl. Get up.”

Lord Ren’s annoyed cadence filtered into Rey’s half-dream state, out of place amongst the colors and shapes. Once it registered, she was scrambling up from her little nest in an instant, almost too quick to her feet in fact. She swayed with vertigo, her vision swimming, a hand bracing the wall for a moment until it cleared and she could straighten up without falling over.

“Sorry, sir,” she said hoarsely. Her throat felt raw from vomiting earlier. 

He was once again towering over her, but felt slightly less massive with his cowl removed. He was still dressed head to toe in black, not an inch of skin visible, but with the cowl removed he looked less like the ghost of death and more like a….clergyman of death. 

_Kriff,_ she was going mad.

“Why are you sleeping in the corner?” He asked with a small crackle of his voice modulator.

She ducked her head. “I don’t know what tasks to do, and it was the least visible place, sir. I did not think you wanted me to be seen while the droids were here.”

There was a pause wherein Rey thought that maybe she’d done something wrong, why wasn’t he saying anything? It was so hard to tell what he was thinking with his stiff posture and emotionless mask. 

But then he nodded. “You thought correct. But you will not sleep there anymore. This is my private room; you will only be in here if I instruct you to do so from now on.”

“Yes, Lord Ren. Sorry, sir.” She picked up the blanket, holding it in a bundle to her chest. She wished she could wrap herself in it, it was still freezing and the warmth from her shower had disappeared as she’d slept. 

“Come. Now that you are fed and rested, it’s time to discuss my expectations of you.” 

Fed? Was that a joke? Did he not intend for her to get sick? But...He didn’t seem to be gloating about it. There weren’t any pointed questions, sneering out _‘How did the food taste? Did you enjoy your fancy meal? Have any problems with it?’_

Perhaps it was as simple as the meal just hadn’t agreed with her. Maybe the next one would. 

Rey couldn’t say if she had rested much because of the aches, the cold, and the noise from the droids earlier, and she definitely wasn’t fed, but _A smart slave keeps her lips shut_ , she remembered, and silently followed her master to the adjacent room.

The droids had done a good job removing what was left of the destroyed side table. The only evidence that anything had happened were the just-slightly-newer floor panels and an obvious space where a table should have been.

Rey wondered if the cleanup of her body would be just as thorough, should Lord Ren see fit to end her in the same way. Without a trace of anything, just bits of her soul, floating aimlessly in the void of space. She was determined not to let that be her fate. 

Lord Ren sat on the couch like a king on his throne, nearly dwarfing it with his large frame. 

“Sit,” he commanded, and Rey folded to her knees on the floor before him. 

He was quiet again for a small moment—probably appraising her, and she hoped her form wasn’t off—and then he began speaking.

“There are important rules you must follow while you are here,” he began. “Rule number one: you will not leave these rooms unless I give you permission. This ship is a _Resurgent_ -class Star Destroyer, which probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but it’s a big starship. You’ll most likely get lost if you try to get around by yourself.”

“I—“ Rey’s teeth clicked as she shut her mouth. _Can’t even go one minute without opening your trap…_

“What?” He asked, sounding annoyed. 

She straightened her spine. “I’ve been through a Star Destroyer before, sir. I know how big they are.”

His interest piqued with the lilt of his voice. “Oh?” 

She nodded. “There were ruins on Jakku from a battle long ago. Troog often had me look for parts he could sell.”

Lord Ren leaned forward, elbows on knees, and Rey tried to make herself as small as casually as possible. 

“A slave _and_ a scavenger,” he mused. “What a creature you are.” 

Rey stared down at her lap and wished the ground would swallow her up. She’d never felt so ashamed of her station in all her life, probably because those that had owned her on Jakku had all been more or less just as ratty as her. But here, in this palace of new durasteel and pristine sleekness, she was like a shoe scuff: ugly, out of place, and in need of removal.

Perhaps she should have gone out with the table.

Why did Lord Ren buy her? Why her?? There were probably countless other more refined slaves on more refined planets. Why did he come to Jakku? 

Why her?

Lord Ren’s black glove-clad hand appeared in her vision a second before pressing beneath her chin. She flinched but looked up as prompted, straight at the visor. At the invisible gaze that burned right into her.

“I can hear you asking yourself why, why you, why me? You’re very loud.”

Rey’s skin prickled and she recoiled from his hand. “Wh— I don’t understand.”

“The Force chose you. _You_ , a scavenger slave girl on Jakku.”

Who chose her? She didn’t understand. He wasn’t making any sense. There wasn’t anything special about her. Nothing.

His metallic voice lowered to a murmur. "I know you have power.” 

Rey’s heart jumped in her chest. Her skin felt tight, and even though it was freezing she could feel herself begin to sweat. 

“I—I don’t—“ She stammered, the words getting caught in her throat.

“You do. Don’t be afraid,” he reached out to touch her temple, the cool leather like a caress on her skin. “I have it too.”   
  
The cold creeped into her mind, down her spine, a pressure in her head like air compression, and then suddenly there was a release, and _she remembered._

The auction. The blaring sun. Troog. The masked man. 

_Fight. Fight back._

Troog…Troog was _dead_. She knew this. She saw his body convulsing in midair. The masked man had killed him. _Lord Ren had murdered him._

Using his magic. The same destructive power that—

Fear was like a pike slicing through Rey’s heart. She didn’t think, she just reacted. Her hand came up to slap his arm away, her legs were beneath her as she moved to stand but the length of her pants on one leg had rolled down, and as she stepped back to get away from the dark creature before her the fabric was caught beneath her heel. Her foot slipped out and she fell hard on her rump and back, knocking the breath out of her and jarring her wounds to new heights of pain.

She gasped as she scrambled backwards, needing to get away, to run from this dangerous monster who had _stolen_ her. 

The thing she always tried to hide, the thing that only ever caused her problems, the thing inside her, fizzled and shivered beneath her skin, like a boiling pot reaching the edge of overflow. 

Lord Ren stood slowly from his seat, a low “Girl…” emitting from him as he took a step to advance on her. She threw up her hand with a “NO!”, and everything stopped.

Rey could feel a strain, like she was holding a heavy machine part, but without holding it. Like her mind was holding it. 

Except, it wasn’t a piece of machinery.   
  
It was Lord Ren.

He was frozen, halfway stepping towards her, his body trembling slightly. Rey could tell he was fighting whatever she was doing to him. She felt it, in her mind, in her core. And she was losing. Her strength was leaving her like sand dripping through fingers. 

But _maker_ , the power she could now sense flowing through her master, could almost see it in it’s shadowy intensity…it was _immense_. Immeasurable. And incredibly _dark_. 

And she didn’t know how or why, but she could see his mind. She could hear his astonishment, his frustration. She could almost see herself in his minds eye, cowering on the floor, a tiny thing in clothes too big for her, her eyes wide in her gaunt and bruised face.

Rey was drawn to something there, in that dark place, in his mind swarming with so much rage and death. Fear. Fear of what? She pressed on. Fear of—

Lord Ren _ripped_ through her magic, and her arm dropped with her hold, her body collapsing back onto the cold durasteel.

Her chest heaved, her mind felt light but the sort of light that came right before you black out from not having enough water. Her limbs were apart from her, connected but not, slow to respond to her attempts to move them. Rey dragged herself to the wall, curled in on herself as best she could, turning her back to her master, preparing to be beaten, preparing to be killed for her audacity. 

First ‘the incident’ back on Jakku, now this. Although it paled in comparison to the destruction that occurred in ‘the incident’, the fact that her master was involved directly this time made the potential consequences much more dire. 

She deserved Lord Ren’s wrath for this. She’s never quite wished for a beating before, but she just…wished he would just _hit her already_. 

His heavy gait sounded behind her, _such heavy boots_ , she thought. She expected a kick to her back, a stomp to her head. Perhaps he would use his flaming sword to hack pieces out of her the way he’d destroyed the table.

But nothing happened. She peered over her shoulder, trembling in fear and spent adrenaline and from the effort it took not to pass out. 

He was just…staring down at her. His chest was moving, deep breaths in and out. 

“What a creature you are,” he whispered, awe evident even in his robotic voice. 

And then Rey’s vision filled with black spots, and she promptly fainted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Kylo is shook


	8. The Question and The Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo settles Rey down for a much needed Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie guys, I'm nervous how y'all are going to take this chapter. I've updated the tags, so be mindful of that.

  
Kylo looked down at the slave girl, the _scavenger_ , and tried in vain to control the chaos of his thoughts. Nothing was going the way he expected. This small, frail woman-child who had seemed almost powerless when he first saw her had just been _aflame_ with her strength in the Force as she’d lashed out at him in fear. 

Her hold on his body had been strong—at first. But she obviously wasn’t used to exerting so much control on the Force, and her power had weakened quickly. Like an ion canon bursting with energy, she had burned hot and bright, and then fizzled out.

He had been expecting her to show some evidence of her power at some point in the future, perhaps in sensing his apprentices or by accidentally making something _small_ move. 

He did not expect her to control his body, or push into his mind. How could she? She was puny. Untrained. 

But oh, _she did_. She froze his movements and plunged into his consciousness without any finesse or direction, like a blazing Terentatek crashing through a crystal house. And it was like he had no mental shields at all. Like he was a weak apprentice, and not a Master of Ren. 

How the _kriff_ did she do that?

Kylo kneeled beside her, brushing the tips of his fingers against her temple, easing into her mind. She was a cacophony of noise and images and feelings, all jumbled together, fixed around a fiery core of anxiety and molten resilience. He saw the shape of her name, fuzzy and unclear, but decided in a fit of pettiness that if she was going to lie to him about it then he wasn’t going to investigate it further. She would be called Girl until he decided to call her something else.

The dark thing he sensed at the auction lurked beneath it like a slumbering rathtar, piquing his curiosity. But try as he might to delve into the memory, it was impenetrable. 

“Impossible,” he whispered. The girl was evidently a master at hiding things from herself. Even he couldn’t access it. 

After retreating from her feverish psyche, he found himself once again lifting her small body into his arms and placing her down on a padded seat—his couch this time. It would serve a better bed than the blanket on the floor. 

The image of her sleeping curled up a few paces from his bed, like a loyal pet, had given him pause earlier when he’d arrived back from the control bridge. He had to scold himself for the thought. She wasn’t a pet. She was a slave. Perhaps for some the difference was negligible, and he knew slaves were normally not given anything but scraps, but it didn’t feel right in this case for her to sleep on the floor. Her Force sensitivity complicated things, as did his now burgeoning want to train her as an apprentice. 

But Snoke’s word was final. And Kylo did not want to incur his Master’s wrath lest he kill her as punishment. 

_Although_ , the Supreme Leader _had_ said to have her as a _servant_ , which garnered much different treatment than a slave. And technically she was a ‘free’ slave, since he had killed her master. _Or,_ Kylo thought, frowning, _she might be logged onto the Slavers Report as stolen goods. In which case, I need to rectify the charge to avoid any trouble with slave hunters looking to return her in the future._

He sighed. Such a troublesome creature. 

Girl was breathing softly, the side of her face and neck purple and yellow with bruises, her body dwarfed in the spare clothes he’d given her. In hindsight he should have specifically asked for clothes closer to her size, because she’d just ended up in his own things. And as satisfying on a primal level as it was to see her dressed in things he owned, she needed clothes in her size. And probably underthings.

He shut his eyes tightly. He was responsible for her now, and that meant he had to consider her needs, no matter how…private.

Kylo could end a life very successfully, with confidence and without thought. But preserving a life? Looking out for someone else’s needs, as if you were their only source of aid? It was not something he’d ever done before. The staff who had helped run his childhood home had been half comprised of droids, and the other half were more like family. None of them slaves. None of them _his_. 

He stood, going to the medicine closet to bring out a needle gun and a vial of intravenous nutrients. She’d eaten already which meant her body would have the energy needed to repair her strength, but a little booster never harmed anyone. And she was still healing from her wounds, which meant her body could use all the help it could get. A medic droid would check on her again soon and replace the bacta patch on her head, but for now he felt obligated to try and do something to aid her recovery. Especially since it was partially his fault she was like this in the first place. 

Kylo administered the shot, garnering no reaction from Girl, and resigned himself to continue his research on his datapad while he waited for her to wake up. He took the chair by the couch that he had pulled out for her, which she had ignored completely to kneel on the floor earlier. It had taken him by surprise but he was used to being kneeled to by his apprentices. The only difference was the context, which in this case was _quite_ different—A complete lowering of self instead of a show of loyal respect. 

Prostration, almost.

He breathed in deeply, let it out slowly, finding a place of dark calm. Then he opened the recent files on his datapad and busied himself while he waited.

* * *

Girl began to stir about an hour later. It was longer than he’d expected, but she was still healing so he didn’t think too much of it. Her eyes blearily blinked open, and as soon as she saw him she began to become afraid again, whimpering as she sluggishly tried to move away. Kylo held out his hand and froze her where she lay. 

“Calm down, Girl. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

He felt her struggling against his hold, her anxiety rising as her attempts to escape became more and more obviously futile. 

“If you don’t calm down I’ll send you to sleep again.” 

She paused, chest heaving, eyes wet and wide. 

“Close your eyes and focus on your breathing,” he instructed calmly. If she was ever to be his apprentice, she’d have to learn to temper her emotions. Passion and anger were keystones for the Dark Side, but without control even the most powerful starship in the galaxy could be rendered useless in the best case, or become a danger to itself and it’s crew in the worst.

Tears dripped down the sides of her face as she fearfully looked at him. At his quiet coaxing, “Go on,” she finally did as he said. 

Her anxiety spiked at first as she closed her eyes, but after a minute of concentration her heartbeat slowed, her body relaxed under his mental grip, and her breathing became more even. She opened her eyes, still alert to her situation but no longer beating against it like a child in a cage. 

“Very good,” Kylo murmured, and Girl flushed from the praise. 

“I’m going to release you now. We need to continue our discussion; there are more rules than just the one. If you lash out again I will send you to sleep and you’ll wake up in much different restraints. Understood?”

She nodded minutely, the only movement afforded to her. 

Kylo released her, and she took a gulp of air, flexed her hands and sat up, the effort making her breathe harder than it should have. She was shaking, from more than just the cold. 

“H-how did you do that?” She asked quietly, breathlessly, eyes downcast. 

Kylo tilted his head, amused at the question. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Girl looked up at him and then back down, sniffling and scrubbing the tears from her bruised face quickly instead of replying. She seemed to notice their relative positions then and made a fearful face, swung her legs around and began to slide to the floor. 

Kylo held up a hand, “Stay. The floor is cold, and you still seem to be acclimating to normal temperatures.” He realized he should probably give her socks and shoes. Her toes were red from the chill.

She didn’t argue, relief and discomfort swirling beneath her skin in equal measures. They were both quiet, he observing her and she staring rigidly at her lap as she caught her breath. 

Kylo broke the silence first. “Do you remember the first rule?”

She seemed to flinch at his voice and then nodded, her own voice hoarse. “No leaving the rooms without permission.” 

“Correct. There are some on this ship who would not react well to seeing you.”

She was solemnly pensive for a moment.

“What?” He asked, sensing a question in her silence.

She spoke with a hesitant voice. “What if…someone tries to come in?”

_An absolute impossibility. No one would dare risk the consequences of meeting my saber_ , he thought. She must be used to having to defend her master’s things against thieves and vagabonds. He’d seen her fight, he knew she’d probably been very successful at it on Jakku. But there was no such problem on the _Finalizer_. Most people didn’t even come to this floor, much less this corridor, unless they absolutely had to. Kylo knew it was because they could sense the dark power that permeated his things. 

“They shouldn’t have access anyways,” Kylo said aloud, “and the only ones that do are droids. But if someone tries to get in, and I’m not here to put an end to them, assume it is without my permission— in which case you will lock yourself in the ‘fresher. Understood?”

She frowned. “Yessir.”

“I know now that in dire situations you may feel tempted to use your powers to attack, but it will be safer for you to hide.” He didn’t want anyone besides himself and his Knights to know about her abilities. Perhaps it was selfish on his part to make her hide that part of herself when she probably needed to be expressing it, _should_ be expressing it by the looks of it, but until Master Snoke let him train her he would have to chain her down, figuratively speaking. 

“With that said,” he continued, voice hardening, “Rule number two: do not use your powers like that on me— _ever_ —again. I will grant you leniency this one time because you obviously haven’t learned any control. But from now on, I will not show any mercy. You _will_ learn control, or you _will_ suffer the consequences. Am I understood?”

Her shoulders came up in a defensive position, as if she was prepared to experience the consequences now. “Yes, Lord Ren. I promise. But—“

He felt a flash of annoyance. “What?” 

Girl looked up finally, her expression lost and afraid. Kylo felt a kinship there, knowing he had probably looked much the same in the beginning when he hadn’t known any better.

“I—I don’t even know where this power comes from,” she said, uncertain. “How am I to control it? It’s only ever come out when I have the least control of all.” 

Kylo just stared at Girl, once again rendered almost speechless with astonishment. “You really didn’t know what you were doing to me?” 

She shook her head vehemently. “No sir, I would _never_ …not purposefully…”

Kylo frowned. “Has something like this happened before, Girl?”

She hesitated before nodding silently. 

He remembered the unease he’d sensed from the crowd at the auction. “Is that why you were being sold?”

Again she nodded, her head lowering in shame. 

He watched her quietly, noting her tense posture and the worry shimmering beneath her tan skin. 

“I’m not going to sell you, if that is what you are worried about. You are far too valuable to sell at this point.”

Girl’s voice came out as an incredulous whisper, face stricken as if he’d blasphemed. “I think you are mistaken, Lord.”

“I am not.” 

He continued before she could interject. “Rule number three: You may use this datapad,” he handed her one he’d taken from storage, “but under no circumstances are you to attempt to go beyond the limits I set upon it.”

She took the device with wide-eyed reverence, “Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

It was a curious thing, witnessing happiness that you helped create with little to no effort or expectation. Girl was obviously unused to being gifted things, but he had thought it a good idea to give her a device after she’d been so curious with his own. And it would help catch her up on modern galactic things, if she knew how to work it properly.

“Have you used one before?” He asked.

“Yessir. A merchant allowed me to use hers sometimes. It was how I learned to read.” There was sadness beneath her words, a longing for something. Girl missed this merchant woman. 

“Was she a friend of yours?” He’s not sure why he asked it. Did Girl have friends on Jakku? People who would miss her, people who loved her? Kylo banished the thoughts from his mind. _It doesn’t matter_. 

Girl shook her head, voice quiet. “She was an old master, from before Troog.” She ran a hand over the datapad. “I think she knew I was a witch. She always protected me when people got suspicious.”

The man almost laughed at the primitive word. But coming from a backwoods planet like Jakku, he knew she couldn’t be held accountable for her ignorances. 

“Is that what you think it is? _Witchcraft?_ ”

He wasn’t quite able to mask the amusement in his voice, and Girl looked up, her cheeks coloring. “What else could it be? Isn’t this magic?” 

Kylo shook his head. “No, not magic,” he said soberly. “It’s the Force.” 

Her brow creased in puzzlement. “You mentioned that before. You said it chose me. What is it?”

Her lack of knowledge was understandable, but it still stunned him somewhat. He'd grown up around other Force-sensitives, so the Force had been as much a part of his daily life as the suns and moons. He forgot sometimes that parts of the galaxy had lost that connection. That evidently even Force-sensitives had lost the knowledge. He was almost _sad_ for her. But it meant he could mold her understanding of it. He could show her what the Force was _truly_ meant to be.

“It’s pure power,” he explained, “—surrounding and penetrating everything in the galaxy. There are those who are able to wield this power, to move it and make it do their bidding. That’s who we are, you and I.”

Girl seemed even more concerned at this knowledge than before. “Are…” She bit her lip, looking at him hesitantly. “Are we the only ones?”

“No. There are others. My apprentices, for instance. And my Master.”

She jerked slightly in her seat, alarmed. “Your master?”

Kylo shook his head at the misconception. “He is not ‘master’ to me the way I am to you. He is my teacher, Supreme Leader Snoke. He taught me everything I know about the Force, and how to reach my full potential in it. Obtaining dominance of the Force is not easy— it requires strict guidance from a powerful instructor.”

Girl was thoughtful as she gazed down at her hands. “Is that why you want me to call you ‘Lord’ Ren?” 

“Correct. Master Ren means something different to me. As I am not your teacher, it is not the right title.” 

She seemed crestfallen, but nodded her head. “I understand.”

It was strange that a slave was sad to not use ‘master’ in address, but the ways of slaves were unknown to Kylo, and therefore he reasoned that there would be many things strange about her mannerisms that were probably perfectly normal in her world. 

“Do you have any questions about what I have bid you?” He asked, mostly intending it to be a rhetorical question. “I expect you to remember these rules. I will not remind you twice, and there will be punishments should you disobey me.”

She shook her head, once again drawn into herself. But her small voice came up a moment later, unsure, almost a whisper.

“You….stole me. You didn’t buy me.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t quite a statement either. More of a seeking of affirmation, a validation of what she now knew to be true.

“Yes,” Kylo affirmed, not a trace of feeling in his voice, although he felt a flicker of something—a memory from long ago of someone scolding him for snatching a tart in the kitchen, _‘oh go on then, Little Star, just one’_ — that he quickly extinguished. Being accused of stealing made him feel like a child, but he refused to entertain the feeling of embarrassment that threatened to rise. He would not question his own decisions on the matter. What’s done is done. She belonged to him now.

“Your previous master is dead. I killed him.” Kylo watched her as she processed his calm confession. Then he asked, “What is the precedent on Jakku for stolen slaves?”

She blinked. “The Warden administers justice to the thieves and returns the property to its rightful owner.” Her brows drew into a frown. “But we are not on Jakku anymore.”

“No we are not.”

She looked up, eyes flickering to his saber at his hip. “And I don’t think the Warden would stand a chance against you even if we were.”

He smirked behind his mask. “No, he wouldn’t.”

She gave a small shrug, resigned. “Then I suppose I belong to you now, however illegal your acquisition of me was.” 

Kylo eyed her. “I admit you seem to be taking this rather calmly.” _Compared to how hysterical you were earlier._

“I don’t have any other choice,” she replied morosely. “I never have. Would you let me go free if I protested your claim?”

“No.”

Girl gestured as if to say, ‘well, there you go.’ 

She picked absently at her fingers as they sat in silence. He could sense she was mulling her thoughts about something, but the way she’d said ‘I never have’ made him curious about another matter so he didn’t press into her mind to see what it was.

“How long have you been a slave?” He asked. Did she ever know a free life? How deep did the conditioning go?

Her fingers stilled. “I don’t know.”

Kylo’s eyes narrowed. “Were you born into slavery?”

Her arms came up to hug herself, her head bowing. “I don’t remember.” 

It was another lie, and this time he had no patience for it. _None._

“You are lying again,” he seethed, fists clenching. “I don’t like being lied to.”

Girl looked up, eyes ablaze and words sharp. “Then stop asking me questions and _get out of my head_.” 

Kylo was on his feet towering over the girl in the next instance, his voice modulator crackling and warping the sound of his voice with the volume of his rage, “YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY.”

Girl’s face shuttered, her anger crumbling beneath her sudden encompassing fear. 

“Lord Ren—!”

He grabbed her with the Force and threw her from the couch to the floor. She slid on the polished metal, then scrabbled to her knees with pleading hands and a bowed head. 

“Please, Lord Ren, I’m sorry!” 

Hadn’t he been patient with her until now? Hadn’t he shown her mercy? And this was how she was going to treat him, her master? The blatant disrespect wasn’t even allowed from his Knights.

“If I want to ask a thousand questions, I WILL ASK THEM, AND YOU WILL ANSWER IN TRUTH.”

“Yes, sir! Please!”

“Please _what?_ ” Her sniveling only made his dark wrath surge. He used the Force to press down on her until her forehead touched the floor, like she’d been earlier when she’d first woken up, half naked and dazed. 

Her hands were flat against the durasteel, trying to resist but unable to. She was still too weak. Too pathetic. She sobbed, the tears in her voice choking out her words. “Th-this s-s-slave is sorry, master. _Please_ f-forgive it.”

Something flickered in Kylo’s mind, an image or a memory, or perhaps a vision. He wasn’t sure. It came and went away in the same instant, but the shape of it was burned behind his eyes: a young boy on a desert planet, a slave, staring at him sullenly from across the hot sand. 

All at once Kylo released Girl, who lifted her forehead just enough so it wasn’t on the floor anymore, but otherwise did not move. Her crying was silent, only the shaking of her shoulders and the occasional softly choked back sob betrayed her. 

His outrage simmered to a lull, but he did not want to feel what he knew lurked beneath it, and he did not want to see her blubbering on the floor anymore, and that damned vision had evaporated like smoke in his mind’s eye, so with a frustrated growl he pivoted towards the entrance door, almost Force-blasting it open before the sensors slid it aside. He locked it closed behind him with the sweep of his hand and raged like a war machine down the corridor to the lift.

This _fucking_ day…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Rey is desperately trying to be good
> 
> So things are looking pretty angsty, which I know might turn people off. But I promise the angst train isn't for too long. I hope y'all stay for the Good Stuff I've got planned.


	9. Picking Up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey pulls herself together a little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! I know I usually update every three days or so, but I'm in a musical and our first two performances were on Saturday and Sunday, so I didn't have much time to work on Chains. 
> 
> Enjoy~ !

When Rey opened her eyes and saw Lord Ren sitting in the chair by her prone form on the couch, she thought he was waiting to kill her. That he had placed her on the couch just to be able to scorn her to her face before tearing her apart with his dark magic. Her limbs were like lead as she tried to get away, get far away, but then he held out his hand and suddenly she was like ice—completely frozen. She thought _this is it. This is my end. He’s doing to me what I did to him, and then he’ll make it worse._

_And I deserve it._

He told her he wasn’t going to hurt her, and like a fool she believed him. She had no choice, really. And it wasn’t as if she had a choice to _not_ do as he said when he told her to close her eyes and focus on her breathing. Not when the opposite meant being ‘put to sleep again’, whatever that meant. 

But…

It had felt _so good_ to be praised for following instructions, especially since it had taken all of her will to trust him and do it. She wanted to be given the chance to obey, and the results had been like a small, temporary balm to her distraught heart.

_“Very good.”_

It was so simple a reward, and it’s not like her previous masters hadn’t said similar things to her every once in a while. But somehow, hearing it from Lord Ren felt different. Felt _more._

Everything about their conversation after that had pulled Rey’s emotions one way or the other. She was already physically exhausted (she’d never known exhaustion like this before, even after ‘the incident’), and then became mentally exhausted from the constant ups and downs of, _‘don’t ever use your uncontrollable powers again or I’ll punish you’, ’you’re too valuable to sell’, ‘here’s a fresh datapad for you to use’, ’I’m not your teacher’, ‘how long have you been a slave?’_

And then everything had just….imploded, impossibly fast. 

Now Rey trembled on the floor, still on her knees, hands stuck where she’d been trying to relieve the pressure of Lord Ren’s power pressing her down. It had felt like he was going to crush her against the floor, like a bug beneath a boot. She’d thought she understood how powerful he was, but she was beginning to realize that she had no idea. She shuddered at the dark possibilities that his magic—his _Force powers_ —potentially held.

And Lord Ren had _apprentices_ , too. He was teaching others how to control the Force, how to ‘bend it to their will’. But she wasn’t worthy. A slave couldn’t learn it, that much he had said. Rey desperately wished he would—even if it meant learning those dark abilities—because this power was terrifying. But she knew she didn’t deserve to call him Master in that way.

Her tears dripped, silently, in the cold room. Before ‘the incident’ it had been a long time since she’d cried in front of a master for doing something wrong. She was normally a good slave, an obedient slave. This power coursing through her—more and more lately—was mucking up her mind, making her _not good_.

Maker, she was worthless.

_“Then stop asking me questions and **get out of my head**.”_

How could she say such a thing, not only to the one who owned her, but to a person who had brought her from a world of sand, heat, and rot to a place of such luxury? How could she say such a thing to a lord who had unbelievable power at his fingertips? Her being in pain, hungry, tired, and cold were no excuses for such behavior. She knew better. And the consequences….

Rey was wrong about Lord Ren needing a whip or a cane to keep her in line. He didn’t even have to touch her. He could send her to her knees from across the room. The potential of _that_ was also terrifying.

Maker, why did she have to make such a prayer to the universe at the auction? This was obviously Devine punishment for asking for something she had no right to want. A kind master? 

She scoffed wetly. 

She should just appreciate the memories she had of master Nybian, and never ask for anything more ever again. The merchant woman had been more kind to her than anyone when she was a child, and those years with Nybian had been the happiest of her life. Rey thanked the Maker every day for the opportunity she had to have some good times to think back on. They were a small flickering light amongst a smear of darkness. Everything in Rey’s life after Nybian died and she’d been sold off again had been a downgrade. And everything before Nybian was—

_“Who the fuck do you think you are, little cretin? You think you can be so greedy? Asking for water? I I I, Me me me?”_ **Slap!** _“No, you little sand shit. From now on you can only call yourself by what you are. And what is that? Huh? What are you?”_

_“A s-slave.”_

Rey shook her head violently. _No._ No thinking about before. It was hard enough trying to keep herself from slipping back into that deep, dark conditioning from that time already, especially when Lord Ren made her feel like such an untrained child again. But she wasn’t in that desolate camp on Jakku. She was here, now, on a Star Destroyer, somewhere in the galaxy, slave to perhaps one of the most powerful people in said galaxy. 

She should be grateful. She could be dead in the desert. But she was here, in fresh clothes, with access to water showers and real food. 

Her tears continued to flow as her thoughts turned sour. _Lord Ren is probably never going to let me use the water shower again. And the food made me sick._

She shook her head again. _No_. She wasn’t going to wallow. Rey sat up slowly, wiping the mess on the floor with the sleeve of her shirt and then wiped her face. She knew how to be a good slave. She could show him. She’d earn her place here. And maybe, someday, when she was back in his good favor, she’d prove to him she could learn about her powers. About this Force.

On shaky, half-asleep legs the slave girl got up, rubbing her thighs to get the blood flowing again, and collected the blanket and the datapad. The best thing to do in times like these was to make oneself unseen. She could do that. She was used to being nothing.

Lord Ren’s bedroom was off limits now, so that left finding a place in the main room. It didn’t take long for Rey to see her options were severely limited, but at least there were options. 

The couch was technically in the center of the room, built into a low wall that had a cut-out geometric design. On either side of the couch there were wide doorways into a small area beyond. Up two short steps Rey went to investigate it, where she found a wall of illuminated shelves. 

Approaching it slowly, Rey noted that each shelf contained only a single item, and nothing particularly flashy or expensive-looking. Just, stuff. The only thing displayed that she determined really worth anything was a book of actual _paper_. Not flimsiplast or screenlets. _Paper_. The writing on the cover was completely foreign to her, but beautiful in it’s intricate swirls and lines.

She was tempted to run her fingers over the pages, to pick up and examine some of the items more closely. But she knew Lord Ren would find out somehow and that felt like a death sentence at this point, so she didn’t.

Rey sniffled and laid out her makeshift blanket pad behind the couch wall, and, satisfied it couldn’t be seen from the main room, curled up on her not-bruised side and turned on the datapad. She thought briefly of leaving it on the couch, as a sort of self-punishment. But she was so curious. And Lord Ren might take it away later anyways, so this might be her only chance.

It was time to see what the holonet had to say about Lord Ren, and this Star Destroyer ship she was on. 

* * *

Nothing. There was nothing on the holonet about any Lord Ren or Supreme Leader Snoke or any new Star Destroyers. The only references to ships were ones from the Empire of old, but those ones were all decommissioned or in ruins, like the ones on Jakku. 

Who was this guy? She knew she’d heard the name Ren before somewhere. And where did this ship come from? There must be more people too, because there was no way Lord Ren was running this ship by himself. He had mentioned apprentices, but unless he had several hundred of them this ship was not functional without a crew.

Rey itched to leave the rooms and explore, to see what the rest of it looked like and confirm that there were other people on board. But Rule Number One kept her back, as did her want to appease her master. She would find out in due time. He wouldn’t keep her in these rooms forever. 

Right?

Searching for The Force on the holonet came back with more responses—stories about Jedi and Sith, powerful men and women who had used their abilities to try and bring peace and war in equal measures throughout the galaxy. And they were all gone, apparently. The last known Jedi had gone missing some years ago, presumed dead. It was rumored there were no more ‘Force-sensitives’ around anymore. 

Rey frowned. But…Lord Ren was Force-sensitive. And so were his apprentices, and his Master. And so was she. 

Why were they keeping themselves a secret? Were they afraid of persecution? Couldn’t they just destroy anyone who tried to do them harm?

There were too many questions now and not enough answers. Lord Ren had made it very well known that he had every right to know everything about Rey (and she dreaded the next time he asked her about things she’d rather keep Locked Away), but she wasn’t so sure she would be granted the same access to information. 

Someday, when things were settled between her and her new master, she’d ask. Someday. She just needed to reign in her curiosity until then.

Rey flitted about the holonet once it became clear she wasn’t getting any answers. It was amazing to be reading news, watching things, and looking at schematics for new ships on a device that wasn’t sand-worn or scratched or glitchy. She could tell there were blocks in place keeping her from accessing some things, such as message forums, but she was determined to not care and to not try to find a way around them. 

It was a couple hours later by her estimation before Lord Ren returned. She’d dozed off, the datapad dark on the floor beside her lax hands, and then the door had hissed open and she was instantly awake. 

She didn’t move, barely breathed, slowly curling up more into a ball. Her hands and feet were freezing. 

Rey heard him pause in the main room, his presence like a dark hum she felt more than heard. She flinched when a becoming-familiar chill touched the edge of her mind. To her relief it retreated just as suddenly as it came, and then his heavy footsteps disappeared into his bedroom, the door hissing shut between them. 

Was it just a day that she’d been on this ship? How long had she been unconscious before? She wasn’t sure. Without the sun she didn’t even know what time it was. She looked at her datapad but the numbers on it were different from what they used on Jakku. She couldn’t understand them. 

The blaring lights illuminating the room would make it difficult to sleep, but she knew she needed to in order to heal. Plus, sleep would help her ignore her rumbling stomach. 

She shut her eyes tightly and managed to lull back into a doze, waking for a moment when the lights dimmed to a dusky shade. _Perhaps that’s how they keep track of time_ , she thought sleepily. _Artificial sunset and sunrise_. For some reason the thought made her sad. Would she ever see the sun again?

The next time she closed her eyes, she was fully asleep, too worn out to even dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Kylo is in rage mode


	10. The Rumor and the Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is angry, a rumor is spread, and efforts to end the rumor are started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again folks! But Happy Valentine's Day!! :D  
> The way I've been writing this story basically has me always have three chapters on-deck. One chapter is completed and needs minor review/editing before being posted, then the next chapter is done but needs heavy editing, and the chapter after that is being written.  
> This chapter is a long one, but chapter 11 is even longer. So it took me a while to have my three chapters on-deck. That's all! :)
> 
> I hope everyone has a wonderful Valentine's Day weekend! 
> 
> Enjoy~

Down in the training room a massacre was occurring.

Kylo roared as he cleaved another battle droid in two, then quickly moved to ricochet a blaster shot off his saber from an artillery droid to his right. It struck the leg of a charging bot, dropping it momentarily, allowing Kylo the chance to fight off two others before turning and finishing it off with the sweep of his blade. 

That Girl.

He grit his teeth behind his mask, surveying the droids still standing. 

She was so _weak_. Cowering on the floor like that. Begging him. 

_Pathetic_. A person with powers like hers…

It was embarrassing. 

Another blaster shot grazed his shoulder, making him grunt. He threw out his hand at the shooter and pushed it into the wall with the Force, crushing it.

And the vision he’d had was still evading him. He could remember…a child? A small humanoid? It was too murky now—like a dream he couldn’t recall images for anymore, only feelings.

Kylo growled, kicking a droid that had ventured too close while he was distracted with another. 

And for some reason the only feeling that came to mind from the vision was _disappointment_. 

He snarled, becoming a whirlwind of black robes, saber fire, and angry red sparks as he made quick work of the remaining bots. When he was finished he stood in the middle of the carnage, breathing heavily and wishing he had more things he could destroy. If his apprentices had been on board he would be drilling them relentlessly, but until they got back from their recon mission Kylo would have to make do with what was available. 

The door to the training room hissed open, and Kylo stiffened. 

“Trouble with the rat already?” A snide voice called. Kylo felt his blood begin to boil to greater heights. _General Hux_. 

Kylo was in no mood to deal with the insufferable git anymore today after having to inform the man earlier about Leader Snoke’s decision to let him keep Girl. The General had been less than pleased, which had been somewhat satisfying for Kylo to witness, but he had hoped he would be spared the man’s presence for some time. It seemed that he was meant to suffer the company of Hux once again today.

“First a door, then a table.” Hux slowly moved about the room, back ramrod straight, arms held behind his back, surveying the destruction with a sneer. “And this is quite a lot of damage to our battle droids, Ren.” 

_L-6 is next_ , Kylo thought with gritted teeth, knowing the droid had probably been the informer.

Hux looked over at Kylo with disdain. “These things aren’t here for you to use and destroy according to your whims, Ren. I’m sure Leader Snoke would agree that there are less costly ways for you to get your _destructive release._ ”

Kylo turned to make his way to the weapons wall, not deigning to reply, wishing he could remove his helmet to clear his breathing and get water. His mask usually made the General feel very uneasy, though, and he rather enjoyed making the General feel uneasy, so he kept it on. 

Hux continued speaking, wandering closer, toeing a sparking arm. “Isn’t that what the girl is for?” Kylo glanced at him sharply. The General’s cold eyes gave him a knowing look. “Or did she not… _satisfy_ …you enough? You were gone for quite a while today, though. One has to wonder why.”

The leather of his gloves creaked as he made fists at his side, his muscles twitching with tension. _Careful, don’t let him see that he’s getting to you. Don’t let him win._ But the implications of Hux’s words set his teeth on edge. First Leader Snoke, and now Hux. Why did they assume sexual recklessness of him? Sex was a distraction he could ill-afford to make, not when he was so close to finding Skywalker—

“Perhaps she resisted you? I never took you for a man who didn’t like a bit of a challenge in that regard. But then again, can’t you just…make her do what you want with your little mind tricks?” 

Kylo jerked around, his voice a snarl, “Only a _sniveling coward_ such as yourself would think to use the Force for such a purpose.”  
  
Hux looked both satisfied and unamused by Kylo’s outburst.

“As if you haven’t been thinking about it since you dragged her aboard, like a beast in heat.” 

Kylo forced himself to breathe through his nose to calm the sudden desire to Force-choke the officer. “Careful, General,” he sneered, “or I’ll start to think you’re jealous.”

The man in question harrumphed with his usual pinched face, as if smelling something foul.  
  
“Of you with that rat? Tch. _Disgusting_. Supreme Leader may have let you have your toy but we both know it’s just a matter of time until she’s nothing but space dust, floating in our wake.” He eyed the pieces of ruined droid around them. “By the looks of things, time is running out already. And after only a day. Tsk, tsk.”

Kylo brought himself up to the man, managing to stare him down in spite of their similar height. He pushed as much threat into his voice and posture as he could, wanting Hux to feel his warning deep down into his bones. 

“I said it once before, General, but the girl is of no concern to you. She’s _mine._ ”

Hux didn’t move, but his icy sneer was not enough to cover up the tremor of trepidation that passed through him. Kylo could sense it, and it felt like a victory.

“Careful Ren,” the pale man warned, “that your personal interests do not interfere with our plans. It would be a shame to have come all this way and get so close to victory, only to have it all ruined by one unnecessary pest, brought on by your lack of foresight and control.” 

Without waiting for a reply from Kylo, Hux turned to start making his way out of the mechanical carnage. “And do not think I won’t report this to Supreme Leader. Learn to control your temper or throw the girl out.” 

It took everything in him for Kylo not to drag the General back as he haughtily left the training room, the door hissing shut between them. If Supreme Leader hadn’t taken an interest in Hux, Kylo would have dispatched him from this plane of existence long ago. But he knew the punishment for such an action would be swift and brutal, so he would stay his hand. For now.

Kylo surveyed the damage around him, realizing he’d taken out almost half a unit. _Better than a whole unit of stormtroopers,_ he thought with a grumble. But then again, his respect for Captain Phasma was higher than his esteem for General Hux, and he wouldn’t want to do anything to disrespect her or put her out by damaging one of her units. At least she was a true warrior who _earned_ her position.

Kylo exhaled, long and slow, trying to center himself, trying to ground himself in dark calm. He had lost control, and there would be consequences. He knew he needed to figure out a way to explain this to Leader Snoke without blaming Girl. As angry at the slave as he was, he still did not want to lose her. There was something about her, some special spark. The power she had hidden deep inside her was only part of it. 

Even now, he sensed a shift in the Force because of her. It was subtle, like a westerly wind blowing just slightly north-westerly now, but he could feel it. 

He turned, making his way to the carafe of water, and removed his helmet to take another deep breath in and drink.

He shouldn’t have treated her that way. 

The thought came out of nowhere and he almost felt himself become filled with rage again, but he didn’t want to give Hux anymore ammunition against him by destroying something else, and deep down he also knew the rage was only to cover up what he was really feeling:  
  
Shame.

The disappointment he’d felt from the vision stuck to him like a persistent fly— Buzzing just within earshot but source unseen, so it was impossible to get rid of. And so the shame kept coming back, and he knew no amount of destruction would cover it up. 

He saw in his mind her cowering, shaking on the floor. Begging. He shut his eyes tightly as if that would help shut it from his mind. It didn’t.

Kylo wondered how young she’d been when she’d had to learn how to cry quietly. He wondered who had first made her speak of herself in third person, as if she was nothing.

He’d seen the fight and fire she was capable of, he’d felt it at the auction. This trembling thing was not who she was; someone had made her that way, long before Kylo had come along. How had she let it happen? Why hadn’t she ever used her powers to get away from her masters, to climb to the top of the Jakku food chain?

It frustrated him to no end. 

How many times had he yelled at and punished his apprentices? How many times had he been punished by Snoke? Many. But his apprentices were still here, and so was he. She needed to toughen up or she was never going to survive, not if she ever became a Knight. Definitely not if she ended up in front of Snoke.

He would not allow such sniveling on the floor from now on. She needed to control her hysterics or he would have to use the Force to control them for her. 

_“Can’t you just…make her do what you want with your little mind tricks?”_

With a frustrated growl Kylo pulled his helmet back on and headed out of the training room, shame and disappointment dogging his heavy steps as he left the mechanical massacre behind him. 

* * *

Not wanting to go back to his rooms just yet, Kylo first went to the medbay for a patch up of the burn on his shoulder, and then headed for the ship hangar. He had commissioned a prototype starfighter—a TIE Silencer—from Snoke’s flagship and mobile armory the _Supremacy_ , and he wanted to check on its status. The _Finalizer’_ s own armory officers were in constant communication with the Mega-Class Star Dreadnought in order to stay on top of the ship’s needs, so they would be the ones to ask about how his commission had progressed.

“Lord Ren,” The first officer exclaimed when Kylo entered the communications area. All officers and stormtroopers in the vicinity stood at attention immediately. 

“I’m here to inquire about my TIE Silencer.” 

The officer nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll send a comm to the _Supremacy_. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Kylo nodded back, and then stood watching the various First Order soldiers working and drilling in the hangar. TIE Fighters glided in and out of the bay, engineers and droids threw sparks from their soldering equipment, and Stormtroopers marched by in formation. It was like mechanical clockwork—a place and function for everything. 

The First Order had its flaws, but it excelled in efficiency and organization. This in direct opposition to the chaos that collided together in the form of the Galactic Republic. But soon, the chaos would be gone. The galaxy would be wiped clean and put in order. Soon.

_‘..slave…poor girl….’_

Kylo tilted his head in the direction of the loud thought-feeling his senses had picked up. A female officer who had been frowning at him quickly looked away and busied herself elsewhere. He realized as he cast his gaze around that most of the officers were giving him sly glances. With careful concentration Kylo extended his senses, and had to keep himself from any outward reaction to what he found. Feelings of morbid curiosity, contempt, and even disgust were strong among them. He had one idea why.

How many officers on this ship thought he was using Girl for sex? It was a disgrace. It was a lie. He would not stand for it. 

He would not allow the gossip mill on the _Finalizer_ to flourish on this drivel. He would nip it in the bud. He would cast out all doubts in everyone’s minds that she was here for anything to do with carnal pleasure. 

She _wasn't_.   
  
But aside from outwardly telling all of them ‘I’m not raping the slave girl’, he didn’t know how to change their minds. She was not well enough to leave his rooms, and he didn’t know what she’d do outside them anyways. Her not being his third apprentice was becoming quite the nuisance. 

“Milord,” the first officer called, bringing him back to the matter at hand. “The _Supremacy_ has returned with a message.” He handed Kylo a datapad and then moved to check on another terminal.

**_Starfighter Proto ID: TIE SILENCER_ **

**_Production status: ACTIVE_ **  
****  
**_Production No. 7593214-KR_ **

**_Construction status: ON HOLD; WAITING FOR KEY SCHEMATICS REVIEW FROM SIENAR-JAEMUS CORPORATION ._ **

_On hold_. Kylo gave a gruff sigh, dropping the datapad onto the console. He had hoped to have it at least ready to test drive soon, but it looked like it would be a little while longer for it. _Kriff_. 

He turned and swept out of the hangar, his mood souring further. What he had asked for was not outside the realm of possibilities for their armory. That they had to go to Sienar-Jaemus to double check his schematics was _very_ annoying. 

Kylo was like a black cloud as he moved through the ship, getting some small enjoyment seeing others become uncomfortable with his roaming dark presence, but still angry that a few of them kept thinking about the slave girl when they saw him. He found himself in the Stormtrooper training galley before long, where Captain Phasma was stood looking out at the drilling soldiers. 

He walked up to stand beside her, returning her nodded greeting of “Lord Ren” with his own “Captain Phasma”. They were quiet for a few moments before the Captain spoke up. 

“I heard an interesting tale today, Milord,” she said nonchalantly, still looking out at the open drill space.

“Oh?” Said Kylo, knowing what she was probably going to say and beginning to grit his teeth. “And what interesting tale was that?”

“I'd heard you brought back a sand beast from Jakku,” she droned, arms crossing. “Imagine my disappointment when I found out it was just a slave. And a girl, no less.”

It seemed he was not allowed to go a single moment today, with anyone, without being condemned or ridiculed for his decision to bring aboard Girl.

“That you would deride your own sex is curious, Captain,” Kylo replied frostily. “I hadn’t realized your station had erased your gender.”

“That you would even put me in the same category as a typical female insults me, Lord Ren,” She replied testily. “Almost as much as the idea of a First Order officer with a slave girl.”

Kylo tensed, hand itching for his saber. “Well it’s a good thing I’m not a First Order officer, then, isn’t it?”

She turned her head towards him sharply. “It’s still an abomination. I thought your kind were _pious_. You should have resisted temptation, but apparently you are not the strong-willed warrior I had thought you were.”

Kylo snarled, turning, “You will not speak to me of matters you do not understand."  
  
“Very well, then, _sir_ ,” she replied snidely, and then with a snappish “I’ll take my leave,” she turned and marched away.   
  
That’s _it_. He was finished with this constant ridicule. _Done_. Starting tomorrow he would stay as far away from Girl as possible. For as long as possible. He would be in his rooms to sleep and shower, but he would not be subjected to anymore of this ridiculous falsehood concerning his control of—of _base animal urges_. 

This idea of him would die out eventually. He just needed to be careful, and he needed to exude _control._ For now he would go back to meditate and seek insight and balance from the Dark Side. He thought about searching for the voice of his Grandfather, Darth Vader, but this felt like a trifling matter too lowly to go the great Dark Lord about. He would figure this out on his own.

He’s not sure what to expect from Girl upon returning to his rooms. In the lift going up to his level he decided he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw her in the same spot on the floor, crying. But when he entered and she was no where to be seen, it made him pause at first, even though he could sense her on his periphery. He sent out a small probe, detecting her immediately behind the couch. 

She was awake, and she was terrified. 

Kylo decided to let her cower. He could not be bothered to deal with her anymore today. He continued to his bedroom, letting the door close off anymore thoughts of the girl for now. 

She obviously didn’t want to see him. Well, starting tomorrow she’d get her wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Rey has her second day on board, and things do not go the way she thought they would. 
> 
> I'll try to get chapter 11 posted by monday or Tuesday :)


	11. Bolt by Bolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's 2nd day on the Finalizer ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter. Enjoy :)
> 
> Also, if you're squeamish about needles...this chapter mentions them unpleasantly. Just a warning~

* * *

Rey woke up immediately at the brightening of the room lights. She was less taken aback by the pristine coldness around her this time, although she was still slightly amazed that it wasn’t a dream. _Or an elaborate nightmare_. 

Lord Ren would be waking now too, which meant she needed to be up and ready to serve as soon as he walked out of his bedroom. She quickly redid her hair buns and moved to kneel by the couch to wait. Her heart thudded in her chest—she was _really_ not looking forward to seeing her master again, not after her terrible behavior yesterday. Would he continue to punish her? How can she come back from this?

_“Bolt by bolt, little Reybeam.”_

The memory helped loosen some of the anxious tightness that pained her chest, while simultaneously made her homesick for better times.

When Rey tried to build her first speeder at age twelve she almost quit right from the beginning when she realized just how much was going to be needed to make it work. She remembers sitting in the sand, surrounded by parts, not even knowing where to begin and feeling panicked about it. Master Nybian had seen her and spoken to her, imparting a wisdom that Rey always tried to remember when things felt overwhelming. 

_“What are you doing, sittin’ in the middle of that mess for?” The elderly woman asked in amused concern._

_Rey looked up forlornly. “I don’t think I can do it, master. I don’t think I can build a speeder. There’s too many parts. What even is this thing? Or that?” She picked up one piece, and then another, turning it over, her young face scrunched in consternation._

_With a softer smile the master kneeled down, gently taking the part from Rey’s hand._

_“Never look farther than what you’ve got in your hands, Rey. If you start looking for a compressor when you haven’t even got bolts, you’ll be frettin’ and gettin’ yourself up in a frenzy for no good reason. Then what good would it do you? How’s it gonna get built with you sittin’ there, cryin’ in the sand?” She pressed her weathered hand to Rey’s cheek, lifting her face. “Listen, little Reybeam, just take it bolt by bolt, and then soon you’ll see the speeder for the parts. Alright? Bolt by bolt.”_

So just like with building speeders, Rey would take building a better working relationship with Lord Ren day by day, bolt by bolt. She would stay as positive as she could, and make small goals to accomplish. For today she would apologize profusely, and try to show how obedient she could be.

Yes, small goals were good. Small goals gave her purpose and direction. 

Last night he had seemed to stop and calm down some after she’d spoken of herself as This Slave. It turned her stomach and made her want to scream at the thought of having to speak that way again, but if that was what pleased him, she would do it. He hadn’t told her what he wanted her to do still, so for now she would just have to do her best to guess and hope he wouldn’t punish her too badly for guessing wrong.

The door to his room slid open and her master walked through, black robes, tattered cowl, and mask all the same intimidating ensemble as before. He was a blast of frosty air and dark feelings that left Rey slightly speechless for a moment, shivering, and then her brain managed to boot back up as he paused just inside the doorway and looked down at her.

“Lord Ren,” she said, bowing her head. “This slave begs for your forgiveness. If there’s anything this slave can—“

“Stop talking like that.”

Rey’s teeth clicked as she shut her mouth, holding her breath and tensing for any possible feeling of his Force magic on her body. 

There was none, but in her tenseness she flinched when he spoke.

“A medidroid will come by to check on you, and another will bring food,” He said while typing something into the command screen. 

“Yessir,” Rey replied quietly to her lap. “Shall I—“

The sound of the door hissing open and then closing between them brought her head back up in surprise. He was gone— disappearing out into the corridor—without another word. 

Rey sat kneeling on the floor in shock for about a minute. Was he going to come back? Was there something he wanted her to do in his absence besides let the medidroid in? She had no idea. He was obviously still irate with her about yesterday; she could feel it in the air. 

The safest thing to do would be to wait right here. And when he got back she could begin to fix things. 

She breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly. 

_Bolt by bolt._

* * *

After an hour of kneeling restlessly by the couch, Rey determined that Lord Ren probably wasn’t coming back anytime soon, so she’d better get up and try to make herself useful somehow. 

Also, she needed to use the toilet. Which was a problem, because the only toilet was in the only ‘fresher, which was in Lord Ren’s bedroom.

She stood in the doorway to his room, remembering that he’d told her she wasn’t to go in unless he said she could, but the ‘fresher was in his bedroom, and she was absolutely definitely _not_ going to do her business on the floor somewhere. This wasn’t Jakku. She couldn’t just go dig a hole somewhere. So with a quick bolstering clench of her fists, she went in and straight to the ‘fresher. 

She did her business in record time, but as she exited her heart stopped at the sound of the front door opening. 

Rey hurried to the doorway, bare feet pattering on the cold floor, an “I’m sorry, Lord Ren—“ already coming out of her mouth before she saw the medidroid wheel in, sans dark master.

Rey deflated, her hand clutching her chest. _Maker, I’ve never been so relieved to see a droid before._ She took a shaky breath in and then stepped forward to be examined by the droid.

Her aches and pains from yesterday had gone down, and her mind was clearer thanks to the bacta patch. But her skin was still mottled with bruises, although they were a greenish-yellow-purple now instead of mostly purple. The bacta on this ship must’ve been high-grade, because this much healing had certainly not been aided by any food.

Speaking of which, Rey desperately hoped her stomach would settle with the meals better today. She’d gone a couple days on Jakku with little to no food before, but this felt like a different hunger. It felt deeper somehow. 

The medidroid was quick with it’s assessment, first by scanning her bruises and applying a bacta topical spray, which she wished would be done quicker, because standing in the main room with her clothes off when Lord Ren could walk in any minute had her heart rate going up to dangerous levels. Also, it was still freezing cold, and she quickly slipped the large clothes back on and sat huddled on the couch afterwards, letting the droid change the bacta patch on her head. 

Then it held out a small pad, beeping <finger here please>. 

Rey pressed her pointer finger to it and then yelped “Ow!” when something pricked her.

“What was that for?” She whined, popping the appendage into her mouth.

<blood scan>.

“Oh.” 

She wondered what sorts of things it would find hidden in her blood. Was it written in her blood that she was a slave? That she was dirty and unworthy of her station aboard this ship? 

Could it tell that she was Force-sensitive? 

Rey struggled to keep herself calm at the thought that maybe she shouldn’t have let the droid have her blood. What if Lord Ren wanted her not to? He hadn’t said anything, but what if he didn’t know that it would take her blood? Would she be punished?

The droid beeped again, pulling her from her thoughts. <no vaccinations detected.>

She frowned. “What? No, I’ve got vaccinations. They gave me a shot for Bantha Cough when I was little and..something else…I think…” 

<other vaccinations critical for protection of crew.>

Rey frowned, worrying her lip with her teeth. “Well….how many do I need?” 

<based on your origin, three vaccines are priority.>

Three? _Three?_ Maker, one was bad enough. She shook her head, holding her arms protectively to her chest.

It beeped persistently. <three vaccines are critical for protection of crew.>

Rey breathed, trying to calm her racing heart, trying to imagine Lord Ren in the room, staring at her, telling her to get this done.

“A-alright,” she nodded shakily. “What are they?”

<Clyrossa-themin, Paravacc 1.X, and Toli-X vaccinations are priority.>

She began lifting the sleeve of her arm, “And what do they ward against?”

<Brainworm Rot Type A, Parasites, and Toli-X virus.>

“….Okay.” 

If this was required for her to be on the ship, then she’d take the injections. She wished Lord Ren could see how good she was being. Needles terrified her.

The Clyrossa-Themin went into her vein at the elbow joint. Then the Toli-X into the muscle of her shoulder of the opposite arm. She breathed through each one, blinking back the wetness in her eyes, championing herself silently for being so strong. It would’ve meant a thousand times more coming from Lord Ren, but they weren’t there yet. Someday, maybe, he’d reward her with praise again. _Bolt by bolt_ , she thought again.

But then the medidroid asked her to turn around and lift her hair buns, and Rey balked.

“What for?”

<Paravacc 1.X must be administered to the back of the neck.>

Rey felt the blood drain from her face. _“What?”_

<Paravacc 1.X must be administered to the back of the neck.>

“Why?” Her hands came up to cover her neck below her skull.

<please turn around and remove obstacles from the site.>

“What if I don’t get the vaccine?” 

<mandatory quarantine for up to three weeks.>

“ _Three weeks?_ ”

There was no way around it. Lord Ren would kill her for sure if she put his rooms under quarantine for three weeks. She had no right. 

But, _kriff_ , the back of the neck? Death almost seemed more attractive, because it was probably going to _hurt_. 

Tears streamed down Rey’s cheeks as she silently complied, turning her back to the droid.

<please move your hands.>

Slowly she slid them up, pushing up her hair. Maybe if she was very good the droid would give a good report to Lord Ren. She just needed to be good right now. 

_You’ve got this, you’ve handled worse things, it’ll be over quickly, food is coming._

She felt something clamp around her neck, like a metal collar. 

<do not move.>

And then there was a sharp pinch between her vertebrae, making her whine and clench her teeth and squeeze her eyes shut. And then a burning coldness oozed into her neck, down her spine, up into her head. And just when she thought she would pull away, thrash and scream, the pressure and the pain went away, and the clamp around her throat was released. 

The droid sprayed bacta on the site and then beeped, <complete. Some side affects may occur. Call for a medidroid if they impair function.>

Rey nodded sluggishly, her head feeling so stuffed so suddenly. 

<consume fluids and food to stabilize your electrolytes and proteins. Your body is malnourished.>

She didn’t bother replying, merely laid down on the couch, shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline and the pain and the foreign sensations of all the medicines running through her body. 

The droid pivoted and wheeled to the door, used a droid key to open it, and then disappeared into the hallway as the door shut behind it. 

Rey cried quietly, holding herself tightly, not even the threat of Lord Ren coming in at any moment and seeing her was enough to stop it. 

* * *

The door beeped and then opened about thirty minutes later, revealing an astromech that held a covered tray. It chimed when it saw her but seeing as how the table that used to be next to the couch was no longer there, it turned and left the food on the table in Lord Ren’s bedroom instead. 

Rey wanted to call out and tell it to just leave it on the floor here beside the couch, but Rey felt like the world was immersed in jelly. Moving jelly. She felt freezing and hot and her skin was sensitive and the panels on the walls were swaying sometimes, but only when she wasn’t looking at them directly. 

When the droid had left she lay on the couch for an indeterminate amount of time and then sluggishly pushed herself upright, waited for the room to stop swaying, and then walked across the icy floor to Lord Ren’s bedroom. 

She sat at the table for a moment, breathing and staring at the tray, then stood and picked it up to bring to her little nest behind the couch wall. It smelled amazing, but her stomach felt like lead. 

_The droid said to eat_ , she thought distantly. _I have to eat._

She didn’t recognize anything on the tray again, but it didn’t matter. Food was food. She needed food. The droid said to eat. 

She ate mechanically, both aware and distantly not aware of the flavors bursting in her mouth. She sniffled, realizing she was crying again. Her head was so heavy. 

It didn’t take long for her stomach to cramp, for the nausea she’d been so afraid of to seize her midsection again. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling down the steps, falling hard on her bad side again, doesn’t matter get up get up get up, to the ‘fresher, gonna—

She vomited, close enough to the toilet that most of it made it in, and when her stomach had emptied and the gagging had stopped she was able to check and see the small splatter along the side of the bowl.

_Shit._

She didn’t have anything to clean it up with aside from the flimsiplast wipes by the toilet, but this would require what she determined to be an amount of wipes that would probably be noticeable, and she didn’t want Lord Ren to know about this.

She used two wipes to wipe up as much as she could, flushing the mess down the toilet, and then sat thinking. She didn’t know where the cleaning things were, and she definitely wasn’t going to use the bathing towel.

Rey leaned her forehead against the bowl, wincing. Her head was pounding now from the pressure it had taken from her gagging. She took in a deep breath, hoping that oxygen would help lessen the pain and help settle her stomach more, and then realized her chest wraps could be used to clean the mess up. 

They were scraps of cloth anyways, and she wouldn’t feel bad getting them dirty. She’d just wash them as much as she could in the sink and lay them out to dry by her nest. 

Yes, that’s what she’d do. 

_Quickly now, before Lord Ren sees._

She pulled the large black sweater over her head and then with shaking hands unwrapped her breasts. Shivering, she put the sweater back on, then wet the wraps in the sink and began wiping up the rest of the vomit, flushing chunks down the toilet and cleaning the remaining mess on the cloths in the sink. 

She scrubbed her wrap vigorously until she became too lightheaded from standing, her brain pulsing painfully and at the same time feeling much too heavy on her shoulders.

With one last look-over for anything she may have missed, she stumbled back to her nest, lying down on the blanket. She breathed, letting the room stop wavering around her, trying to keep her eyes open because closing them made everything spin. When the vertigo had mostly passed, she sat up slightly to lay out her wraps.

_Another meal lost_ , she thought sullenly. She truly couldn’t eat the food here. She decided that she’d only eat what she could recognize, nothing more. Even if it meant sending away a couple meals a day, she couldn’t afford to be sick like this every time. Especially not if Lord Ren was ever present for them. 

The floor became uncomfortable after a while, especially since her not-bruised side was slightly sore from sleeping the night before. So she moved around to lay on the couch, bringing the datapad with her to explore the holonet some more. She wished she could talk to people and ask questions about some of the interesting things she found, but once again she was met with an electronic wall keeping her from doing so. 

Datapad abandoned, she napped off and on, waking when the door beeped—which had her sitting up too quickly—although it was only for another astromech holding a tray. The smell made her queasy, so she sent it away knowing even if she recognized the food, it wouldn’t likely stay down.

Back on the couch she lay, shivering as her body quickly became feverish over the course of an hour. She retrieved her still-wet wraps and held them to her forehead, trying to mop up the sweat and cool her blazing head. 

Lord Ren still didn’t show.

Occasionally emboldened by his lack of presence, she staggered to the ‘fresher for water, finally appreciating the coolness of the floor and air against her heated skin. She hadn’t felt sick like this in a long time. Not since _before_ , and that time she’d almost died. This wasn’t nearly as bad as that, but she still wished there was someone around to at least make sure she didn’t get terminally worse.

She thought briefly about calling for a medidroid, but didn’t want to inconvenience them in case they were needed for more important people on the ship. If she was still like this whenever Lord Ren got back, surely he’d notice and call one for her. Until then, she would just endure.

It took another couple of hours for her fever to break, and then she was back in the ‘fresher, wiping down her body quickly to rid itself of the smell of sweat and feversickness. She wanted to use the water shower, but Lord Ren would notice, and she wasn’t sure she was allowed to. 

She drank more water from the sink after cleaning herself as thoroughly as she could, only flinching slightly when the door beeped again. She peeked around the doorway and—Rey sighed. Another astromech with a food tray. 

She looked the food over before sending it away again. None of it looked recognizable.

And then she was back on the couch, so so tired, wanting this all to be over with, wishing Lord Ren would show up and tell her to do something—anything. Even ill she could show him how well she works, how she doesn’t let anything stop her from obeying her master’s orders. 

It was later, _very late_ by Rey’s internal calculations, when she could feel something stir in the air. It was the whisper of a hum, and she realized it was Lord Ren just a few seconds before the door beeped again. 

She was down beside the couch, kneeling on her knees before the door opened.

Would he be able to tell what had happened to her? That she’d been sick? Would he care? Or punish her? 

She didn’t know. She barely knew him. And because of his mask and stiff posture it was very difficult to read him. But it was always safer to err on the side of caution and assume the worst.

Again he paused when he entered, looking down at her. She felt her skin prickle and hoped he couldn’t tell how out of sorts she was. 

“Lord Ren,” she greeted with a slow nod, trying not to upset her head again. It had finally stopped aching, but her neck was stiff. 

“Girl,” he simply said. He looked around, as if checking to see if anything was amiss. “I trust the medidroid came.”

“Yessir,” she replied. _It definitely did_.

“And that you ate food.”

Rey willed her heart to remain steady. He could tell when she was lying so she couldn’t say she ate food when she didn’t.

“The droids brought food for me, yessir.” 

“Good.” 

It technically wasn’t a lie. They had brought food for her, she just hadn’t eaten it, and what she’d eaten hadn’t stayed down.

Tensing the muscles of her body to keep herself from swaying or stumbling, she rose to her feet. She held her shaking hands, pressing them to her stomach to steady her torso. The room was spinning slightly again.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Lord?” 

There was a silent beat, and somehow she could tell he was becoming angry again. 

She felt herself panic. Why? _Why??_ What did she _do?_

“ _No,_ ” he said in a hard voice, and then disappeared behind his bedroom door in a sweep of dark robes and coldness.

Rey stood, trying to catch her breath, trying to see where she’d gone wrong, trying not to collapse on the floor. She couldn’t figure it out, and it was making it difficult for her to breathe.

_No, stay calm, just remember, Bolt by Bolt._

She nodded, _yes, bolt by bolt._

She’d earn his favor soon enough. This was just the second day. It would get better.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Day 2 and 3 from Kylo's POV......


	12. Refocusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo tries to get his head back in the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay! This chapter gave me a lot of grief, and on top of that everyone is losing their damn minds here in Japan about the coronavirus. My school has told the students to not come for the next three weeks, but us teachers still have to go. Which I guess means I'll have a ton of time to write because I won't be doing anything else, so maybe my updates will be closer together for the next month.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Kylo slipped his overcoat robes on, the ends swishing around his ankles as he retrieved his wide belt. Putting his clothes on was mindless, robotic in it’s daily routine. It allowed his thoughts to wander, and this morning those thoughts ruminated sharply on Girl.

The _nerve_ of that slave.

Yesterday on her second day on the _Finalizer_ she’d been very genuinely apologetic in the morning, but he’d quickly put a stop to the ‘this slave’ nonsense. Whatever conditioning she’d had that made her talk that way, it was barbaric and he wouldn’t be validating it. She was already a slave. She didn’t need to be personhood-less on top of that. 

Also, she was a kriffing Force-sensitive. He’d wanted to grab her and shake her, _where’s your fucking pride??_  
  
But he didn’t. He’d just told her to expect the droids, and then left.

And he’d done a good enough job avoiding his rooms the whole day. He knew the medidroid would check on the girl and continue to patch her up, and the meals would be delivered by astromech, so there was no reason for him to be there. Instead, he’d spent the day on the bridge, silently watching the crew, in the hangar, checking up on his TIE Silencer again, or in the Stormtrooper galley, watching them drill. 

Wherever he was, he’d made sure he was where multiple people could see him and attest to his whereabouts, which were _not in his rooms with the slave girl._

He’d still had to hold himself steady against loudly and angrily calling anyone out whenever he heard thought-whispers about him and the slave. But he knew it would only be a matter of time before they merely forgot about her, and moved on to other idiotic ship gossip. 

But until then he needed to exude control, and spend as little time as possible near Girl. 

During the day he’d tried to distract himself from thinking too much about her, the damned disappointment still a murmur in the background of his mind. But as the day wore on it faded farther and farther away, until it was almost forgotten. 

He’d gone back to his rooms near the end of the day cycle, expecting her to be asleep. She was awake, however, kneeling almost exactly where he’d left her in the morning. 

_Surely she moved during the day_ , he thought, looking around to see any evidence of her having done so. But his rooms were bare except for the shelf of his curio and mementos, so he’d just have to trust that she wasn’t a complete robotic imbecile and had actually got up to move around the room at some point. 

There was something slightly….off…about her though, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and as soon as she stood any desire to double check with her had evaporated.

It was the way she had stood, back ramrod straight, shoulders back, hands held at her diaphragm—it was fluid. Almost _sensual_. It brought back to mind those working women at the dingy cantina where _that man_ had taken him, and he’d seen the motions that those women performed to appear more attractive to their male guests. 

Was Girl…trying to seduce him?

She said she wasn’t a pleasure slave yesterday, and she’d said it with such affront and conviction that he’d believed her. But…

She was currently standing before him, her cheeks unnaturally flushed as if she’d pinched them for color, and….

She was obviously not wearing her chest wrap anymore, because the evidence of how _cold_ she was, together with how she was holding herself, basically put her smallish breasts on prominent display.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Lord?” She asked, her voice slightly breathless.

If this was an attempt to worm her way onto his good side by triggering his arousal, it wasn’t going to work. _How **dare** she?_ He has to deal with everyone on the ship thinking he was trying to bed her, he explicitly avoids the rooms to quell the rumor, and then she goes and basically tries to prove them right?

No. He would not fall for this. He would not allow it. 

His hands balled into fists at his side, his teeth clenched. 

“ ** _No_** ,” he ground out with as much finality as he could, hoping she understood that this method of appeasing him would not work at all, and then he’d marched straight to his bedroom for a cold shower to help cool down his frustration. 

* * *

Kylo finished dressing, putting on his helmet last, and then just stood still for a moment, steadying his racing pulse. 

Captain Phasma had accused him of not being pious, but he _was_ pious. He and his Knights were faithful to their training, to their cause. He was committed to seeing the First Order take control of the galaxy, and committed to finding Luke and killing him. This girl’s entrance into his life was not going to change that. 

She may have distracted him for a day or two, but he was going to spend this day refocusing, and try to push any thoughts of her out of his mind completely. 

He needed to get into contact with his Knights and see what they had found on their mission. They shouldn’t be too far out now; they were supposed to be on their way back, and once they did he’d be able to get back into their training routine. It was a shame Girl wouldn’t be part of it, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

Kylo moved to the raised containment preserver where he kept his Grandfather’s helmet, opening it to gaze stoically down at it. He touched it gently, reverently, feeling the dark aura that pulsed from the memories attached to it. 

A deep voice like a rumble of thunder echoed throughout his mind. He closed his eyes and concentrated on it, trying to make clear the words.

_“…find Luke….end the Jedi….”_

Kylo nodded, murmuring “Yes, Grandfather,” but when he pulled his hand away and opened his eyes there was a flash of heat and an image of sand dunes that flickered like an image on the inside of his eye lids as he blinked. 

He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, banishing it from his mind. It must be some sort of residue from the Girl going into his mind. That was the only explanation. 

Well, she wasn’t going to be doing _that_ anymore. 

Sealing up the preserver, Kylo tried to pull into himself the dark Forces woven around the item, trying to clear his mind and refocus on what his Grandfather had said. Even the great Darth Vader was reminding him of his mission. 

Yes, today he would regroup and refocus. 

Away from his quarters and the girl. 

Speaking of, he could sense Girl’s anxious and yet determined thoughts from the other room. What she was so determined about, he wasn’t sure, and it made him suspicious that she would try to seduce him again. 

Well, he wasn’t even going to give her a chance to try today. 

Kylo opened the door to the adjacent room and swept to the main door without even a glance at Girl, ignoring her greeting and continuing resolutely into the corridor, the door shutting soundly behind him. 

He let out a long breath as he ascended in the lift towards the main bridge, and set his mind back to task.

Find Luke. End the Jedi.

Yes, He could do that. 

* * *

It was the third day now since his visit to Jakku, and although he’d learned some important information in regards to the missing map piece, Kylo still felt no closer to it. There was an encampment that he’d wanted to check where an old man he once knew apparently resided with key details, but the situation with Girl had distracted him. 

Theoretically he could go back to Jakku in his shuttle and find the man, but Kylo had a feeling that his own presence on the planet had probably become widespread knowledge by now, so whatever details the old man had were probably buried in the sand or were now off-world. 

Kylo sighed in frustration. Another reason that taking Girl had been a mistake. His mind mulled over the lost opportunity, and the disappointment he felt in himself for losing a possible lead sent his thoughts down a dark path.

They weren’t far from Jakku. It would take less than a day to go back to investigate the lead and also just….leave Girl there. Everything would return to how it used to be. In fact, it would be as if she’d never been aboard the _Finalizer_ at all.

But no. He couldn’t do that. Not to another Force-sensitive. Not to her. He wasn’t going to be that kind of coward.

Kylo shut his eyes. He was thinking about her again. 

_Refocus. Find Luke. End the Jedi._

This was his mistake so he would have to live with it and just find a new lead. He had instructed his Knights to only come back when they had something, so perhaps he hadn’t set himself back too much.

Kylo turned from the bridge and headed to the nearby conference room, placing his communicator on the long holotable and transfiguring it to send a comm on his encoded channel. 

After a moment it pinged, and a flickering blue holo of Tomaxx Ren’s mask appeared. 

“Master,” he greeted, his ghostly head bowing. 

“Tomaxx Ren,” Kylo intoned, “status update.”

“Information extraction was successful, with no exposure. We have verified three possible planets where Resistance members may be hiding with information about the map.”

“Good. We may need to search all three.”

“Was Jakku a failure, Master? Did you not find anything?”

For a split second Kylo thought Tomaxx was being snide, and his initial emotional reaction was a flare of indignation, but his two Knights had been on a comms blackout until now so there was no way they’d learned about Girl.

“There was a lead,” Kylo explained, “but a situation arose that took priority and I left before pursuing it. We may need to go back but I fear the lead has been lost by now.”

“Understood. Do you want Cseenan and I to check Jakku before we return?”

It was tempting to have them go, just in case. But somehow Kylo knew that it would be a waste of time, that the details they sought were no longer there for them to find. And, there was a chance they’d find out what actually happened at the market if they went. He’d rather tell them about Girl himself. 

“No, come back to the _Finalizer_. We will debrief about recent changes and then begin canvassing the planets from your source.”

“…Yes, Master.” 

Kylo could tell that Tomaxx had something to say or ask, but in typical fashion would keep it to himself until he could talk to him alone. 

“When do you arrive back at the ship?” Kylo asked.

“Less than a cycle.”

“Good. Don’t delay. Time is of the essence.”

“Yes, Master,” the Knight nodded and then the holo flickered out. 

A moment later the communicator pinged again, alerting him to a data file transmission. When it was done decoding Kylo opened it, thumbing through the holos of three planets that Tomaxx and Cseenan had found to be of interest to their mission. 

Phu, Takodana, and Mirrin Prime. Phu and Takodana were closest to their current position, with Mirrin Prime a bit more out of the way, but it wouldn’t take more than a week or two to canvass all of them. If Kylo and the Knights split up it would taken even less time. It was an option to consider, especially since they were running against the clock. If the Resistance got ahold of the map piece before him, Luke would remain hidden forever unless Kylo managed to steal the info from them. 

He wouldn’t let it get that far, though. He _would_ find the missing map piece and he _would_ go to where Luke had run away to—the coward—and he _would_ kill the Jedi, ending them and their legacy of lies forever.

* * *

  
  
Kylo spent the rest of the day either looking out at the stars from the bridge or down in the training room meditating and searching the Force for answers. Sometimes the path was made clearly apparent to him, and other times like today it was clouded. None of the three planets lit up in any way, so they would all have to be searched.

It felt good to be immersing himself in the Dark side of the Force. It reminded him of the power he now had access to that had always been forbidden to him. It reminded him of his hate and anger towards his useless family. It reminded him of the connection he had to the only one of them that mattered anymore: his Grandfather. 

His mind felt sharper, his body stronger after several hours of deep meditation. He broke for luncheon in the conference room, and then searched the holonet for any whispers from the Resistance or Galactic Republic about Luke or the map. There was minimal chatter about much of anything though, so he busied himself by reading the Sith text Supreme Leader Snoke had given him.  
  
Near dinner time a comms officer appeared to alert him that his Knights’ ship was approaching, even though Kylo had felt it immediately when they had emerged out of hyperspace. He headed to the hangar to greet them, feeling their Force signatures grow stronger as they entered the _Finalizer_ ’s range and maneuvered gracefully into the landing bay.   
  
Kylo’s two apprentice Knights descended the ramp in a cloud of depressurizing oxygen exhaust and dark purpose. The Master eyed them as they drew near, noting that they both were more than a little worn for wear. Their black and grey robes were tattered and dirty, their masks were in need of a buff, and Cseenan was completely without his cloak.

But they still held themselves with esteem, still exuded power and confidence. No one would mistake them for bottom brass. 

As they came to stand before Kylo, they both gave deep nods while greeting him in unison.  
  
“Master.”

“Knights. You arrived sooner than I had expected.”

Cseenan’s scaly tail twitched as he and Tomaxx shared a hidden look. “We felt an urgency from your call, Master,” the Barabel rasped. “And so we flew some short-ways about the sectors.”

“Very good,” Kylo murmured, somewhat distracted by Tomaxx who appeared to be looking up slightly at nothing in particular. 

“Master,” the Knight began saying lowly, his body tensing.

Kylo knew with how strong Tomaxx’s powers were—almost as strong as his own—the Knight could sense Girl now. Her Force powers were like a tiny kindle flame in a sea of darkness on the ship. 

“Yes, Tomaxx Ren?”

The Knight looked back at Kylo, the silver lines of his dark mask glinting in the harsh light of the hangar.

“Who is on the ship?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for anyone who hasn't read my other fic 'The Connection Between Stars', Tomaxx Ren and Cseenan Ren are two of my OC Knights of Ren. For 'Chains' their characters will be slightly simplified and they won't have such complex character arcs or importance in the plot, but if you're curious about them, I recommend at least giving TCBS a peek. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey's third day on board....


	13. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's third day aboard the Finalizer....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I know I told someone I'd have this chapter out by Tuesday, but I ended up finishing it on Wednesday. The reason I didn't post it was that I wanted to get chapter 14 written, which I did, and chapter 15.  
> So, 
> 
> WOO.  
> I will post Chapter 14 on Sunday :D Chapter 15 will not be posted until I get chapter 16 done, because I have to make sure things line up correctly and whatnot. But, HNNGG GUYS I CANNOT WAIT FOR YALL TO READ THE NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS OMGG  
> I sent chapters 14 and 15 to my long-time beta reader and he gave his golden seal of approval, and also threatened to break into my apartment to get to chapter 16 XD 
> 
> Also, Japan is crazy y'all they done run out of toilet paper in every corner of the damn country. Smh.
> 
> P.S. I think I accidentally marked someones comment on the last chapter as spam, because my thumb has a mind of it's own. So if someone got a notification about that, I'm sorry :U

* * *

Rey stared aghast at where Lord Ren had just been, where he had just swept by silently to the corridor without even a glance in her direction or any indication that he had heard her morning greeting at all.

Was this her punishment for whatever it was that had angered him last night? Was he just going to ignore her? 

Granted, it was better than being pushed to the ground by his Force magic, and it was better than being beaten. But Rey just wished she knew what she’d done wrong. She couldn’t learn not to do it again if she didn’t know what _it_ was in the first place. 

Bolt by Bolt only worked if she had the bolts to begin with.

Rey blew out a heavy sigh, slumping in dejection and frustration. _Stupid Lord Ren, being so evasive and silent._ He could have at least told her to do something before leaving. Now she was stuck again, waiting for droids she wished wouldn’t come.

She snorted humorlessly. Dreading droids and wanting commands. How her life had turned upside down in just three days. 

Last night she’d briefly become feverish again, but it had quickly gone away without causing her too much problems sleeping. She hoped that was the last of the strange sickness though. She didn’t want to feel the way she’d felt yesterday _ever again_. Rey wasn’t sure if it was the vaccines or something else, but if the medidroid came back with more injections for her she decided she was just going to refuse them and deal with the consequences from Lord Ren later. 

Her body felt hollowed out today, and weak. Her neck was still slightly stiff, and the sites where she’d gotten injections ached. She was so tired. And so cold. If it was possible to be colder than she’d been before, that’s how cold she felt now. Like she was a planet in deep space, where there was no sun, no warmth. She felt just as isolated from everything as well.

Rey wasn’t used to being so alone. She’d grown up surrounded by other people in camps and communities. There was always noise and chatter, always someone going somewhere, someone doing something. It was safer in numbers, especially for people like her. 

But here on this ship she felt so closed off from life. She shivered, both at the idea of forever being alone in space somewhere where no one ever talked to her, and from the chill. 

Did Lord Ren lower the temperature of the room more? Was he trying to freeze her to death? 

Rey got up on shaking legs and stumbled her way up to her nest to grab the blanket and wrap herself in it. It helped dilute some of her shivering, but not by much. She wished she had something to cover her feet with, because it felt like all of her warmth was draining from her toes. 

Her mouth felt dry, her throat scratchy, so she slipped into the ‘fresher to drink a few handfuls of water. Even if she had no food, at least there was water, which was infinitely more important a resource to have access to. Rey stood for a few minutes to let the water settle in her stomach, and then drank a few more handfuls. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the crispness of it.

She decided to curl up on the couch to try and conserve what little body heat she had, the cushion not as soft as the bed but certainly better than the icy floor. She stared at the door for a while, thinking about lonely planets, cold water, and building speeders until she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Rey dreamed. 

She was back on Jakku, but it was _so cold_. The wind blew sand into her face, and it felt like freezing needles puncturing her skin. She covered herself with a cry, curling into a ball to protect herself. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” A gruff voice yelled. 

“The needles!” She whined, but just then the onslaught had stopped, and she felt foolish. 

She uncurled and rose to her feet, looking around at everyone working on the campsite. Jutting out of the center of the dwellings there was a thirty foot high tower, with a window near the top. Rey saw people she recognized, friends and masters and fellow slaves. She saw them walk up to the tower and somehow become _long_. 

They stretched up, reaching the window and accepting the amenities offered, then shrank back down to size. 

“Hey! What are you doing?! Get over here!” Troog yelled at her, motioning towards the tower. “Get our things!”

Rey walked through the sand, sinking into it slightly, the grains sticking her feet to the ground like mud. It was so hard to walk. Troog bellowed at her, his spit flying, but she couldn’t go any faster.

She was exhausted as she finally got to the base of the tower. She reached up with a hand, but she didn’t elongate. 

“Hurry up!” He screamed into her ear. 

Rey tried again, tried to jump even, but her limbs wouldn’t elongate and she couldn’t jump. Not even an inch.

She looked to Troog apologetically. “I-I can’t, master.”

“DON’T CALL ME MASTER,” he screeched, his voice like a rathtar scream— high and ear-splitting.

Rey flinched, feeling broken and torn, unsure of herself. “I’m sorry!”

“Get our things!” He shrieked, pointing insistently up at the high window. “Get them! Hurry!” He sounded desperate, and Rey began to feel scared.

She reached up again, beginning to whimper, the fear of not being able to perform her master’s bidding, the fear of what he was afraid of, making her heart thump wildly in her chest. 

And then she began to sink into the sand.

“AH! Help!” She cried, looking around, trying to grab for Troog to stop it. He slipped from her grasp, his voice robotic now as he screamed.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING. GET OUR THINGS. STOP SINKING, YOU STUPID GIRL. YOU USELESS GIRL. YOU WORTHLESS GIRL.”

“I’m sorry!” Her voice rose in desperation, pleading to anyone around her as she sank down to her ribs. “Please! Please help me!”

No one came. No one even looked in her direction. Troog was a robot and her friends were so tall and they were walking away, and Nybian was there smiling and repeating “bolt by bolt” over and over, and the sand was up to Rey’s chin now, covering her mouth, it was reaching up like a hand, pulling her down down down into it’s freezing depths, choking her, suffocating her—

With a sluggish spasm, as if mentally stumbling through a wall of sand, Rey awoke trembling and gasping on the couch. In the quiet of the room a loud robotic noise came from directly beside her, and she shrieked in surprise. Her arm came out, fear lancing through her, and too little too late she could feel The Thing Inside Her—the Force magic—erupt like a geyser around her. The droid didn’t stand a chance, and she had little way to control herself or stop what happened.

It was less than a second and the droid was thrown across the room to smash against the door, the tray of food it had carried strewn along the floor in a smear of sauce and beans and meat. 

Rey sat up, gasping for air, her whole body trembling as she took in the scene she had caused. The droid was silent, and her heart seized in fear at the thought that she had broken it. The room narrowed down to just the food on the floor and the lifeless droid lying on it’s side before the door.

What did she do? What did she DO? _Oh Maker, oh, no, oh nonono_ —

Rey threw the blanket off and stood, half collapsing as her knees gave out. She panted, struggling to her feet and lurching forward to check the droid. 

Lifting it upright took three tries and more strength than she thought she had, but it allowed her to check it over and look for the main drive switch. There was an impressive dent in the casing where it had slammed against the durasteel door, and Rey had to grab one of the thrown utensils to pry open the mainframe hatch, but it looked like all the switches and lines were still connected. She pressed to reboot the main drive and sat back to watch the droid worriedly. 

After a moment of electric whining and buzzing, the photosensor flickered on and the droid’s head swiveled with a sudden jerk.

Rey let out a breath, her hands shaking as she ran them over the casing to get a feel for the damage.

“I’m so, so sorry. Are you alright? Can you do a damage assessment?”

The astromech scanned her with it’s mechanical eye. 

<I cannot asses you, I am not a medical droid>

Rey blushed, frowning. “No, not me. Assess yourself.”

It beeped, then went through the motions of a self-scan: the indicators on it’s panel lighting up, it’s head rotating, the wheels moving itself in calculated movements. 

<no internal or motor function damage detected. Minor aesthetic damage>

Rey nodded. “That’s probably fine. Although…” She was terrified of being found out for causing damage to the droid. But there was no way to fix it in these rooms. If she had access to a workshop and tools she could make it look just like new. 

Well, there was nothing to be done about that then. She’d take the punishment for it gladly, seeing as how it was her fault entirely. 

The droid maneuvered around her, assessing the food mess on the floor. 

Rey’s heart rate sped back up, seeing the wasted meal. She hurriedly stood on shaking legs. 

“I’ll help you clean it. Please don’t tell anyone about it.” 

<meal cannot be replaced>

Rey felt tears prick her eyes, her throat stuck with emotion. 

“That’s fine,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry for wasting it. Please, don’t tell Lord Ren.”

<accident must be logged>

“No, please, just…” She searched around, trying to find an answer. “Just say you left it normally. Just log that it was eaten. Please, please.”

It whirred in calculated thought, the photosensor roaming to observe the mess, and then Rey’s trembling state. She didn’t miss how it also looked over to where the table used to be, the newly replaced panels still shiny and unscuffed, before beeping decidedly.   
  
<it will be logged as a rejected delivery>

Rey sagged in relief, her chest aching from the adrenaline. “Thank you.”

<cleaning will be called for> It wheeled to the control panel and fit it’s droid key into the slot. 

“You don’t have to do that, I can help,” Rey implored, beginning to gather the strewn flatware and use the utensils to scoop as much of the mess onto the tray as she could. It smelled amazing, and she more than once paused with the spoon, tempted to try it. Once she gave in and started bringing it to her lips, but the droid squawked at her shrilly.

<do not eat! Contaminated!>

“What?” She frowned, eyeing the pristine durasteel floors. “No it’s not. The floor’s plenty clean. Trust me,” she mumbled, “I’ve eaten worse things from dirtier places.” 

But the droid was persistent, bumping into her. <do not eat! Do not eat!>

Rey put her arm up to block it, “Stop that.”

It paused, it’s photosensor pointed at her and it’s beeps low. <will log as an accident.>

Rey felt her stomach drop again, her mouth set into a grim frown and her lower lip trembled. She all but flung the spoon at the tray, rising to her feet in the same breath.

“Fine,” she snapped, “I won’t eat it. But I’m still going to help clean.”

<unnecessary.>

Rey wanted to argue back, but just then the door opened—prompting her to drop to her knees with an apology on her lips—and a small crew of cleaner droids filed in. 

They quickly set to work wiping, vacuuming, and mopping up the remaining bits of sauce and grease while Rey looked on wearily with a defeated stare. 

Her knees ached where she’d hit them against the hard floor and the circulation was beginning to cut off to her feet, but she stayed in her kneeled position until only the dented delivery droid was left in the room with her.

<do you need assistance?>

“No,” Rey whispered brokenly, “I’m fine, thank you. You can leave me.”

It stayed still, scanning her with it’s photosensor for a moment before beeping a goodbye and wheeling out the door. 

Rey just sat and stared at the clean floor, the words from her dream echoing in her mind, the gaping maw in her heart widening inside her with every reverberation. 

* * *

When the pain in her dead feet and legs was too much to bare, Rey shook out the pins and needles and then crawled back onto the couch. She didn’t want to sleep in case she dreamt again, but she was just _so tired_. Just,

absolutely exhausted. 

She did end up slipping into a doze—a half-asleep state where she dreamt she was stuck to the floor while droids whirled around her, smearing black oil everywhere, and she couldn’t speak or unstick herself to stop them. 

Rey blearily woke up an indeterminate amount of time later and felt incredibly out of sorts. She sat up, caught her breath, and then shakily stood to go to the ‘fresher to tend to business and get another drink of water. 

She took a few tentative steps, the blanket wrapped around her and dragging about her bare feet, and then she felt something that made her stop. 

It was a strange awareness, a feeling like wind in her mind, or like a pressure on the tiny hairs on her skin. It was similar to her strange Knowings-without-knowing-Why, but not nearly as palpable. She couldn’t tell much from it now, like if it was a good feeling or a bad omen, but she could tell one thing:

There was someone at the door. 

Rey didn’t understand why she knew it, but she just _did_. There was someone on the other side of the door, and they were definitely _not_ Lord Ren. 

Her breathing became labored as her heart rate sped up. Adrenaline flooded her system and she could feel herself begin to quake. 

Who was it? Why were they just standing there, outside the door? What did they want?

Lord Ren did not tell her a person would come by. He hadn’t said anything at all to her, in fact, not even about any droids. 

What if they tried to get in?

_‘Lock yourself in the ‘fresher.’_

Rey nodded as if Lord Ren had just said the words, and lurched towards the bedroom, almost tripping on the ends of the blanket in the process. Her racing heart did not slow down once she had shut the ‘fresher door and found the way to lock it. If anything, being trapped in a smaller room just made her even more anxious. 

Did whoever it was know how to get in? Would they try to get at her in the ‘fresher? What would they do to her if they did? 

Maybe it was someone coming to punish her about the droid. But Rey wasn’t sure if anyone else besides Lord Ren could punish her, or was she more of a communal slave? A ship slave? 

She could still tell that they were out there, although it was muffled by the distance now. There wasn’t much else she could tell about them, but she thought she sensed frustration and anger from them at one point. 

Yes, it was definitely good that she was locked in the ‘fresher.

It was only a few moments longer before she felt the small pressure begin to release as whoever it was moved away. But even after it was entirely gone, Rey did not leave the ‘fresher. She sat, curled up beneath the sink, shivering and trying to control her breathing because she could feel a panicked thing clawing it’s way up her insides, threatening to constrict her airflow and turn the situation into an _Incident_ , and she definitely did NOT want that to happen. 

She did cry, though. Quietly, gasping and trembling, her heart pounding and her mind reeling with questions and emotions and shapeless, nameless monsters yelling terrible things. 

She fell asleep again after a while, when it all had been drained out of her and she couldn’t even find the strength to keep her head up anymore. 

OO

  
Again Rey woke up, not knowing the time or for how long she’d been passed out on the ‘fresher floor. She wanted to stay where she was and go back to sleep, but she was afraid of Lord Ren coming back and becoming angry with her, so she willed herself to at least sit up. 

She let her head clear a bit, but through the fog emerged the beginnings of a pounding headache that made her wince. It felt like a dry-ache, the term they used on Jakku for the headaches one gets from not having enough water—for being dangerously close to being too dehydrated to function. 

It must’ve been the crying, because she’s definitely been drinking water. 

She used the lip of the sink to help pull herself up to her feet, leaning heavily against it when the blood in her head felt replaced with air and she thought she was going to faint. 

Rey breathed, deeply at first until that started to make it worse, then in short panting breaths, until she felt steady enough to stand unassisted. She drank more water, and splashed her face to scrub away the tears and snot and sweat. 

She wished there was a mirror in the ‘fresher so she could check her appearance, because she probably looked horrible. There was a place above the sink where it seemed like a mirror was supposed to fit, but it had apparently been removed.

Why did Lord Ren remove it? Was it to uphold some sort of dedication to not caring about appearances? Is that also why he wore such head to toe coverings? Or was it because he didn’t like what he saw?

Rey wondered what sort of creature he was, that he could possibly hate his reflection. Maybe he was disfigured and ugly beneath all that dark cloth and mask. She almost felt some pity for him, if that was the case. 

_Can’t be any worse than Troog, though_ , she thought, and then turned her attention to the door. 

She laid a hand on the panel as if that would help her feel if anyone was in the rooms beyond. There was no strange Knowing or pressure though, so she felt it safe enough to press the locking mechanism and then open the ‘fresher door. She peeked out, her heart in her throat, gripping the blanket protectively around her.

The rooms were empty.

She let out a sigh, some of the tension going out of her muscles. She was tired again, and it was difficult to stay standing, so she trudged back to the couch and sat. 

Rey had a feeling that it was not good that she was so tired, but she had no way to rectify it. She didn’t feel comfortable calling for a droid and she definitely didn’t want to complain to Lord Ren. He probably had enough problems of his own, he didn’t need to be burdened with hers as well. 

The next meal, she decided, she’d try to eat. Maybe it would stay down. Maybe.

She curled into a ball, exhaustion pulling her down into darkness once more.

* * *

  
It was the medidroid that woke her next. And while her dreams had not been any better in content, at least she didn’t wake up startled into causing an accident again. 

It’s check-up of her took less time than yesterday, due in part to the lack of vaccinations this time and the fact that it didn’t need to replace the bacta patch on her apparently-healed head. It did, however, drone about the slow progress of the bruises on her side, and about her electrolyte levels after taking another blood sample. 

<you are critically low.>

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She didn’t know what else to say.

It whirred for a moment, the sounds of it’s inner workings audible until a small hatch clicked open to reveal a tablet. 

<take this with water. It will help replenish your electrolyte levels.>

Rey picked up the large pill and cradled it in her palm. 

<did you eat luncheon?>

When did luncheon happen? She must have been asleep in the ‘fresher for longer than she realized. The droid must have come and then left with the meal when it didn’t see anyone. 

Rey shook her head slightly. It was pounding horrifically. 

<dinner will arrive in 1.5 hours. Please eat the meal. Your levels are critical. Medical intervention inevitable.>

“Plea-se,” she croaked, “don’t bother Lord Ren with this. I promise I’ll eat. I’ll take this tablet. I promise, I’ll get better.”

<your levels will be checked again tomorrow. If there is no improvement, medical intervention is inevitable.>

“Okay,” She whispered dejectedly. 

Finished with it’s assessment and satisfied with her promise, the medidroid left, and Rey trudged back to the ‘fresher to take the pill with some water. 

She sat back down on the couch with her datapad in hand, wanting to find some mindless thing to look at or watch to occupy her mind from ruminating on the churning feelings of uselessness she felt inside. 

When the food droid came an hour and a half later, Rey’s headache had mostly gone away and she felt slightly less fragile, although it was still difficult to stand for too long without needing to sit and catch her breath. 

The droid was the same one as before, and it beeped hesitantly at the doorway without coming any closer. Rey was reading about the infamous Kessel Run and turned her head to acknowledge the sound, pushing herself up to a sitting position as the droid crept forward. 

“Hello again,” Rey murmured. It whistled a similar greeting, and Rey’s frown softened.

“Did you try to bring me lunch earlier?”

<yes. The room was empty. Delivery was returned to kitchen>

“Sorry, I was in the ‘fresher.” She examined the dent on it’s casing again, wincing. “Did anyone notice your damage?”

<no>

She felt relieved, but it would only be a matter of time probably. She hoped they had a decent repair shop here. She wished she could repair the droid herself, but

_‘Useless.’_

Rey took a few steadying breaths, trying to hold back the tears threatening to form. To distract herself she looked over the meal the astromech had brought, and knew that the only thing she would probably keep down was the small bread roll. It looked similar to the nutriportion loaves she was used to eating on Jakku. Also, the bowl of meaty stew on the tray, while incredibly appetizing, looked like it would last all of five seconds in her stomach if she tried to eat it.   
  
She picked up the bread and then sat back. “I’ll just take this. You can take back the rest of it.”

The droid’s photosensor looked down at the tray and then back up at her. 

<are you positive?>

_No_. “Yes,” she said, “thank you.”

It left, and Rey tore a small piece from the roll and popped it in her mouth. It was nothing like the dry, powdery nutriportion loaves, but after eating a few small bites Rey knew it would probably stay down. 

She ended up only eating half of the roll, intending to keep the other half to eat tomorrow in case the morning meal didn’t look edible. Her stomach felt a little bit off for a little while, but it thankfully settled and Rey felt the tension she hadn’t realized she had in her shoulders release.

Drinking a bit more water had her feeling comfortably satisfied, and she felt almost light-hearted when she settled back onto the couch with her datapad. Maybe things would turn out okay. Maybe—

And then she felt it.

The Knowing—unmistakably the Bad Omen kind. 

It was a pressure again, a compression of air around her, but it quickly grew into an almost vice-like grip on her ribcage. This wasn’t the same frigid feeling of Lord Ren’s presence. This was…this was like _black oil_ , greasy and gritty. It felt like the dark parts of the Finb Canyon, where horrible creatures and monsters hid.

Rey’s datapad clattered to the floor. She didn’t even notice it, only hearing the rush of blood in her ears and the gasping breaths she took. She was shaking so much that her teeth were chattering.

She thought briefly of locking herself in the ‘fresher again, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Whatever was on this Starship now, it felt about as powerful as Lord Ren, and Rey had felt his power _intimately_. A durasteel door couldn’t save her from it.   
  
The feeling grew as the source got closer. She could tell Lord Ren was there as well, out in the corridor. So close to the rooms. 

It was outside the door now. 

Rey stood, clenching her fists at her side, willing herself to be strong, to be not afraid.   
  
Her wheezing spoke otherwise, and she was quickly becoming lightheaded again. She needed to sit. She wanted to hide. 

Her heart raced. 

And then the feeling kept moving. Down the corridor. It hovered there, too close for comfort, and stayed there for a while before moving somewhere further away for the rest of the night.

At some point Rey managed to unfreeze her limbs, picked up the datapad and her blanket and remade her nest behind the couch with hands that shook so bad she could hardly grip anything.

She held herself sitting in a ball, staring at the wall of pretty things without seeing them. Her mind was inward, attempting to only focus on the lonely island jutting out of the cold sea and wishing more than anything that she was just as strong, just as unresisting against the freezing onslaught crashing around her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all wanna really wanna feel some feels, listen to Braid by Gem Club :) 
> 
> btw I'm on tumblr as Veggieheist if anyone wants to chat :D I reblog Star Wars stuff, memes, and other random interests and whatnot. Also, it will be hella easier to give y'all updates on my progress there than on here. 
> 
> Next chapter: The Knights of Ren have a Talk.


	14. The Archives Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and his two Knights have a chat...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. It was originally much much longer but I split it between this chapter and what is now chapter 15. Flows a bit better this way I think.

* * *

_“Who is on the ship?”_

Kylo didn’t say anything in reply at first, waiting for Cseenan to sense Girl as well. The way the Barabel went stock-still—masked snout pointed in her direction as if a hound intently focused on the sound of a prey—told Kylo he’d finally done it.

He was keenly aware of the various officers and stormtroopers milling about them in the hangar, so Kylo opted not to answer Tomaxx just yet.

“As I said before on the comm, there have been recent changes. We mustn’t discuss them here.”

Tomaxx seemed to understand that this was not the place for sensitive topics to be openly spoken about, and nodded at his Master.

“We can go to the archives room.” 

It was indeed the best place to go on the ship due to it’s privacy. The Sith texts and holocrons within were some of them sensitive to high frequency sounds, and therefore the room had been outfitted with thick soundproofing. There was also no way to hide any sort of bugging device as the sensors would be able to pick up the frequency, no matter how small. So Kylo knew that aside from his own quarters, the archive room was the most private place on the ship.

Kylo nodded and began to lead them away from the hangar. There was a buzzing beneath his skin, a tingle almost, as if he’d had his body scrubbed nearly too hard. His heart pounded, but he felt calm. He felt alive. It was the usual effects of being around his Knights. All of their combined Dark power together usually bolstered him—made him feel indestructible. 

The archive room was located in a corridor off from where his quarters were, so they took the lift to his level. As they passed his rooms he almost wanted to throw open the door right then and there and show the Knights what he’d found. He wanted them to see her, to confirm the special spark he felt in her presence. But he could sense Girl, could tell that she had sensed the Knights and that she was terrified. A more planned introduction would be better, so he continued walking.

“Cseenan,” Tomaxx called quietly, prompting Kylo to stop and turn. The Barabel Knight was stood in front of Kylo’s door, his tail twitching, clawed hands flexing. Kylo had a feeling that if his mask had been off, Cseenan’s eyes would be clearly dilated to full black. 

Girl’s fear was exacerbating the hunter’s bloodlust. 

“Cseenan Ren,” Kylo said in a more commanding tone, “The archive room. _Now.”_

Kylo could feel Cseenan’s want to disobey, a knee-jerk reaction from his more primal reptilian side, but after a beat he stiffly turned and moved with his comrade and Master away from the door. 

Both Knights were tense as the archive room sealed shut around them. They could still sense Girl keenly, her small pulse of power like a beacon. It felt smaller now than before, but Kylo chalked it up to the sudden overwhelming presence of Dark Force energy that now permeated the area from the three of them.

Kylo motioned for them to sit at the holotable in the center of the small room, he himself taking a seat at the head of it. He reached up to release his mask and the others did the same in unison, each revealing themselves.

Cseenan Ren’s eyes were indeed black, but he took in a few deep breaths of the recycled air and some of the amber color around the edges returned. 

In the low lighting of the room Tomaxx’s blue skin looked almost navy, bringing his bright red eyes in stark contrast. Right now those eyes were intently focused on Kylo, questions caught behind them.

“Who is he?” The Chiss asked without preamble.

“ _She_ ,” Kylo corrected, deciding to be blunt, “is a slave from Jakku. When I discovered she was Force-sensitive I took her.” 

Cseenan’s sharp teeth clicked together. “For hunting practice?”

Kylo’s gaze was cutting as he spoke with finality, “No.” 

Tomaxx’s brow furrowed slightly. “Does Supreme Leader know?”

“Of course he does,” Kylo said with some annoyance. “He—“ Kylo faltered.

_‘go on, Little Star, just take it—’_

Kylo’s voice was hard, his emotions contained. “He allowed me to keep her, under the condition that she be a servant.”

Cseenan’s eyes went full-black again. “A pet?” He rasped. 

“Cseenan.” Tomaxx’s quiet, but stern, voice came up before Kylo could snarl at the Knight, “Don’t be crude,” he reprimanded. 

The Barabel let out a small snort, the scales on his neck bristling.

“Slave. Pet. I see no difference—”

“Can she help us find Skywalker?” Tomaxx cut in before Cseenan could finish, his attention directed at Kylo.

The Master wanted to shift in his seat but kept himself still, kept his feelings caged behind dark calm and resolve. 

“Not that I can determine.” 

“Is she trained in the Force?”

“No.”

“….So you let—“ Tomaxx cut himself off, correcting himself stiffly. “So the lead was lost…in order to capture a very low-level, untrained Force-sensitive _slave girl?_ ” 

“Yes.”

Tomaxx and Cseenan exchanged a look, both of them grim. 

“But,” Kylo continued, drawing their gazes, “she is far stronger than she seems.”

“How?” Tomaxx asked.

“She put my body into a Force-hold. It lasted all of ten seconds before I was able to break it, but I couldn’t move.” He decided to leave out her probe into his thoughts. He could admit to being overpowered in body, but in mind…

The Knights were alarmed, Cseenan bristled again and Tomaxx’s hands fisted on the table.

“ _How—_ “

Kylo shook his head, frowning. “I’m not sure. It almost seems like she’s only ever able to do anything when she’s experiencing strong emotional upheaval, which goes against everything we’ve ever been taught about great power needing great control.” 

“Indeed,” Tomaxx murmured, eyes searching the tabletop as he pondered the new information. The Knight was talented at strategizing and coming up with quick plans, a skill that had helped not only their small group, but the First Order military as well in some cases. Kylo wasn’t surprised when the Chiss’s red eyes lit up in that familiar way. If anything, he was looking forward to it.

“Perhaps she can help us after all.”

“What’s got your thoughts, Blue?” Cseenan asked, gravelly voice inquisitive.

The Chiss looked up. “She truly doesn’t seem powerful at all. If she can mask her abilities so well from us, then she could probably do the same to Skywalker. He won’t take her as a serious threat the way he would with us. If we brought her with us when we find his location, she could get close enough to hold him, and then we’d have the opening to strike a fatal blow.”

Kylo mulled the idea over, and wanted to reject it right away. He didn’t like the idea of Girl coming with them. But he wasn’t sure why, and he didn’t want to dig into it, so he merely nodded. 

“That is a valid plan, Tomaxx. And when we acquire the map we will see about what should be done. But as I said, she has no control over her powers. It would be difficult to plan having her hold him at the exact right time for us to have an advantage.”

“If we make her afeared of him,” Cseenan pondered aloud, “then it would be easy-wise.” 

“Luke isn’t exactly intimidating,” Kylo droned. “He’s an old man.”

“A _powerful_ old man,” Tomaxx added pointedly. “And if we twist her mind—“

“ _No_.”

The room tensed at Kylo’s loud dismissal. He breathed, keeping his voice even and low.   
  
“You know I don’t approve of those methods. That you would even assume mind-breaking was an option is an affront to me.”

After a strained moment Tomaxx dipped his head. “My apologies, Master. I did not mean to offend.” 

“We will find a way to defeat Skywalker. With or without Girl.”

There was a pregnant pause, broken by a snort from Cseenan. 

“ _Girl?_ ” The Barabel looked between comrade and master, then started laughing, a raspy, gritty sound.

Tomaxx didn’t laugh, but Kylo could tell that he was slightly bemused by the twitch in his brow. 

“Is that really her name?”

“Her name is Girl until I decide to call her something else,” said Kylo with serious finality, and the amusement promptly evaporated from the Knights.   
  
“Then Girl she shall be,” murmured Tomaxx. 

Cseenan nodded, but Kylo could see a glint in his eye that did not bode well for the slave. Cseenan was loyal to Kylo, would die for him, but Kylo was no fool. He knew that when a Barabel hyper-focused on something, it was dangerous to get in between. He needed to keep an eye on the Knight lest he set his sights on the girl in a more predatory sense.

“There is one more thing:” he added, “No one else knows about Girl’s Force-sensitivity besides us and Snoke. We need to keep it that way.”

“Why?” Cseenan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it matter?”

Kylo gave him a look. “Do you really want the likes of General Hux thinking it’s acceptable to keep Force-sensitives as _slaves?_ ” 

“Then why are you?” Tomaxx asked, his accusatory tone making Kylo’s hackles rise. He took a breath to defend himself when the Knight held up a hand.

“Nevermind, Master.” He looked up, his gaze strong and unblinking. “I trust your judgment.”

“Yes,” Cseenan nodded, looking from Tomaxx to Kylo. “You’ve never strayed us wrong, Master. Maybe this slave girl has a purpose we don’t figure just yet. The Force works strange-wise that way. It brought us together, after all.”

Kylo took a deep breath in, his chest swelling with some unnamed emotion. 

“Your loyalty will not go unrewarded,” he assured them. “When the Galactic Republic is gone and Skywalker is dead, we will rule the galaxy.” He made sure to look into each of their eyes with conviction. “Together.”

The Force pulsed around them, dark and heavy. Kylo had made many promises to them, and he had kept all of them so far, but he knew that their belief in his decision to take Girl was purely on faith alone. That they trusted him that much…it was empowering as much as it was humbling.

“Do we go and meet the slave now?” Cseenan asked with the glint in his eye.

“No,” Kylo shook his head. “Go get cleaned up and rest. There will be time for introductions tomorrow before we resume training.”

“Yes, Master,” They said in unison. 

“Come to my quarters in the morning, I’ll make sure she knows you and then we’ll plan the day. There is much to be done to prepare for canvassing the three planets you found.”

They stood as Kylo got to his feet, securely replacing their masks as he did before sharing one last hidden look amongst themselves and exiting into the corridor. Kylo watched them go down to the far hall where their rooms were, and then turned to head back to his own. 

When he entered his rooms, he once again paused to check for Girl. And, once again she was hidden behind the couch, still very much awake. He could tell that her emotional state had dampened. She felt almost closed-off now. 

_So she does have some control over her emotions_ , he thought with interest. _Perhaps with some direction she could be of use to us._

He still wasn’t fond of Tomaxx’s plan, but Kylo knew that Girl had fight in her. She was not as defenseless as she acted all the time, so if things came to head with Luke, maybe she would survive it. 

Kylo entered his bedroom, shutting the door. _Maybe_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Kylo has his Knights meet Girl, and some cracks start to fissure...
> 
> My hopeful posting day for chapter 15 will be Wednesday 3/11, but I will realistically shoot for Friday 3/13. It all depends on whether I can get chapter 16 finished by those times.
> 
> If you're curious about how I envision Tomaxx and Cseenan, here's a moodboard I made for them. It's also on my tumblr :D  
> 


	15. Cracks in the Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has Girl meet the Knights, and things begin to crack and fissure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get chapters 15, 16, 17, AND 18 written in the past four days. So we shall be enjoying some quick updates :D Yaayy~

Upon waking, washing, and dressing, Kylo realized that Girl had not done the same since the day she’d arrived. Perhaps she was used to not washing often, but he kept himself and his things neat and organized and most importantly, _clean_. So she needed to learn to do the same. 

He grabbed another set of clothes from his drawer before exiting into the adjacent room. He was expecting Girl to be kneeling on the floor the same way she’d done the past two mornings, but she wasn’t. From the looks of things, she was still asleep.

Kylo frowned. 

“Girl.”

No movement.

“ _Girl_ ,” he said louder, and he heard a sharp gasp and _thunk_ , as if she’d jerked and hit against the back of the couch wall. He waited while she slowly got up, fingers gripping through the cutout design in the wall while she caught her breath. She’d done the same thing after he woke her the first day, and it made him wonder if she was always breathless when she woke up.

She stiffly came around and down the steps, stopping beside the couch, her form shivering slightly.  
  
Kylo waited a beat to see if she’d say anything or move closer, and when she didn’t he tensed. Was she the petty kind of girl who resorted to passive aggressive retaliation? Was she being silent because he did not acknowledge her yesterday morning?

“Here,” he grumbled, tossing the bundle of clothes at her feet. “Put these on.”

There was a pause as she groggily frowned down at the clothes. 

“Right now, sir?” Her voice was almost as raspy as Cseenan’s.

“ _Yes_ , now,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his annoyance rising.

Girl gave a small “Yessir,” and then began pulling up the shirt she was wearing. 

“STOP,” Kylo quickly commanded, and she froze with the shirt halfway up, face stricken. He pointed to the bedroom.

“Not _here_. Use the ‘fresher.” 

She let the shirt fall back down, her bowed head not hiding the red of her face.

“Yessir, sorry, sir.”

“And wash yourself. My apprentices have returned and will be by here to meet you soon”

“…Yessir.”

She grabbed the bundle and disappeared into the ‘fresher.

Kylo breathed, slowly, trying not to think about her exposed midsection. Trying not to remember the last time he’d seen it, when she’d been basically naked, standing in his bedroom, trembling. 

Girl would have changed clothes, right there, in front of him. She’d hardly hesitated. 

He was definitely making sure that _never_ happened again.

The only other thing that struck him about the sudden flash of skin was the obvious still-not-healed bruise decorating her hip and ribs. Kylo frowned. She should be healed by now.

He made a mental note to check the medidroids assessment of her later, after all the introductions were made. 

She emerged from the ‘fresher, showered and changed about ten minutes later. Kylo was relieved that she seemed to be wearing all of her underthings now, and took it to mean she’d gotten his message from the other night. 

He assessed her with a critical eye, trying to see her how his Knights would see her. She was wearing his sleep clothes again, but he hadn’t had time to find anything in her size. They were clean, and covered her, and that was all that mattered at the moment. 

Her damp hair was swept back in the three little buns, not a strand out of place. But the rest of her countenance, even slightly rosy from being freshly showered, seemed somewhat _sallow_. 

But, he reasoned, she’d been without sun exposure for almost five days now. Her body was probably not used to being without those rays beating down on her all the time. He decided he’d take her up to the viewing window soon, to let her see the nearby sun. Perhaps she’d liven up a little, like a plant. 

“Sir,” her small voice called his attention.

“What?”

She swallowed, taking a few breaths. “Yesterday, earlier in the day,” she paused, her fisted hands pressing into her abdomen again. “I-I think there was someone outside the door.” Her voice cracked, and she hung her head. “It frightened me, so I hid in the ‘fresher, as you told me.”

Kylo frowned. “It was probably just a passing officer. Occasionally they come down this corridor to access the express lift,” his voice lowered to a grumble, “although they aren’t supposed to.”

Girl nodded, some of the tension loosening out of her fists. 

“You don’t need to hide in the ‘fresher every time someone passes by,” he scolded. “Only if someone tries to come in.”

“Sorry, sir,” she whispered hoarsely, head lowered. 

“Head up, Girl,” He commanded. “They’re here.”

* * *

Once the Knights entered his quarters the introductions were very straightforward. There was a great tremor of fear beneath Girl’s stony exterior as she looked up and saw his Knights in all their dark glory when they entered—practically dressed for battle with masks and weapons all. But he was pleased that she seemed to be keeping good composure in spite of her terror. She still trembled, but they seemed to be shakes from the cold.

“Girl,” he said, drawing her wide gaze in his direction. “These are my two apprentices, my Knights of Ren. This is Tomaxx Ren,” the Chiss gave a minute nod, “and Cseenan Ren.” The Barabel did the same. 

“You will refer to them as Lord Tomaxx and Lord Cseenan.”

“Yessir,” she said. He noticed her fingers were trembling, but she quickly gripped them at her middle again. “Is…is there anything I can do for you, Lords?”

“No,” Kylo answered. “We have things to attend to elsewhere.”

“But should we need your assistance,” Tomaxx added, and none of them missed how Girl flinched at the sound of his vocomodulator, “we will surely let you know.” 

She nodded shakily with a breathy “Yessir.”

“Very well then,” Kylo droned, indicating to the Knights with his head that it was time to leave. 

The Knights said nothing as they all moved down the corridor to the lift. They needed to be in the main Situation room to access the database and make use of the large holotable there for strategizing, which meant going up to the Bridge level.

Inside the lift, it was quiet for only a moment.

“She seems very frail,” Tomaxx commented with a frown in his voice.

“Like a twig,” Cseenan added, miming with his hands, “like she could SNAP.” 

Kylo had a feeling they would say something about her weight. He’d had the same impression of her at first as well. 

“She’s been living as a slave on Jakku her whole life. Who knows how often she was fed, or what she was fed. I imagine it was scraps.” Kylo was surprised to feel himself somewhat angry at the thought. A force-sensitive being treated like a dog. _Despicable_. 

“She’s receiving meals three times a day now, and that should be more than enough to put weight on her bones after a while.”

Tomaxx gave a low “Hm,” but made no further comments. 

Cseenan bounced from foot to foot, agitated. “I’m bored of this jabbering. Let’s _fight_.”

“We have research and planning to do, Cseenan Ren,” Kylo droned. “We will have time for weapons training later.”

Cseenan gave a low growl but didn’t say anything more.

* * *

In the Situation room they began going through the database, pouring over details and schematics and articles about the three planets, trying to find anything that might hint at one of them being the one they were looking for. 

It took less than three hours of this for Cseenan’s antsy teeth clicking, nail tapping, and growling to make Kylo snap at him to go down to the training room to practice his forms and meditate. 

The Barabel acquiesced with a toothy grin, all too happy to be away from all the sitting and reading. 

Tomaxx looked over to Kylo after the other Knight had left. “You need not burden yourself with this, Master, if you wanted to join Cseenan and spar. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But I don’t want there to be anything missed. This is too important.”

Tomaxx didn’t say anything, merely paused for a beat and then pretended to continue working for a few moments. 

“Master Kylo,” Tomaxx began again slowly, choosing his words delicately. 

Kylo knew that tone in the Knight’s voice and instantly became suspicious. “Yes..”

“I took a walk about the ship last night to stretch my legs,” the Chiss began. “I heard some _concerning_ things among the crew—pertaining to you and the slave—and while I don’t believe for a second that you acquired her for any such purpose,” he paused again, “…I have _concerns_.”

Kylo turned to face Tomaxx fully. “And what concerns would those be?”

Tomaxx turned to mirror his Master. “She’s in your quarters.”

“Yes.”

“Wearing your clothes.”

“It was what was available.”

“…Does she sleep on the couch?” Kylo knew Tomaxx was trying not to ask the question he really wanted to ask, which was probably whether she was sleeping in his bed or not.

“No,” he replied, staying silent for a moment to enjoy Tomaxx’s sudden tension before continuing, “She sleeps on the floor, near my artifacts.”

“Ah.” A pause. “Will you assign her her own rooms? Somewhere close by?”

Kylo frowned at Tomaxx. “I haven’t decided, and I don’t see why it matters.”

Tomaxx tilted his head. “I’m only concerned with your privacy, Master. Nothing else. I don’t trust this Girl, not with your personal effects and not with your safety.”

Kylo scoffed, turning back to the task at hand. “Girl is hardly a threat, Tomaxx. Your fears are unfounded.”

“Are they? So, aside from putting you into a Force-hold, she hasn’t shown any evidence of being a danger to you or to our cause?”

Kylo remained silent.

Tomaxx continued. “She seems weak in the Force, but obviously she could be dangerous. What if she’s not who she says she is? What if she was planted on Jakku for you to find?”

Kylo shook his head. “No, impossible. I would have found out. I’ve been inside her mind.”

“And there was nothing amiss? Nothing hidden? How far in did you go?”

Kylo realized that he hadn’t surveyed her mind as thoroughly as he could have, as he should have. And then there was the Dark Thing he hadn’t been able to penetrate…

He felt himself reeling and tried to not let it show. _Was Girl a spy?_

She didn’t look or act like any spy that he’d ever encountered, so he had strong doubts. But he knew that until she unlocked that part of her mind and let him see it, he would not be able to fully trust her from now on. 

“I saw enough,” was what he said. 

Tomaxx continued, “I know you, and I know you wouldn’t have taken her if you didn’t have a reason—if you hadn’t seen something in her worth cultivating. Perhaps the enemy knows that as well, and put her there for you.”

“I _did_ see something in her,” he argued hotly. “On Jakku, she fought for her freedom. She came _alive_ with the Force. And she _has_ shown to have the capability of great power—as I told you—by putting my body into a hold, but she has no control over it nor any way to purposefully access it. She’s not a danger to us. She’s not a spy.”

Tomaxx looked away briefly, his brow furrowed. “If that’s the truth and she really isn’t a rebel agent, then I don’t understand why you’ve taken her as a slave and not as an apprentice. A Force-sensitive… _slave_. It’s—” He said something in his native language that sounded angry and disgusted.

“Because Leader Snoke commands it,” Kylo replied darkly, his lack of agency in decisions regarding Girl making his hands itch to hit something. “And I will not go against him in this. Someday she might show worthiness, but for now her place is at our feet, not beside us.”

Tomaxx’s red eyes met Kylo’s. “At _your_ feet, Master. She’s _your_ slave.”

Kylo clenched his jaw, willing himself not to lash out angrily at the Knight. He breathed a few steadying breaths, grinding out his words. 

“If it disturbs you so much, Tomaxx Ren, you have my permission to avoid her. But she’s staying where she is.”

“In your rooms, you mean? Alone? Have you been checking on her?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Tomaxx stared at Kylo with a pinched brow. “At risk of sounding…offensive…I wonder if you’ve been avoiding your rooms because of the gossip.”

Kylo felt his hackles rise and clenched his teeth together to keep himself from denying it outright too quickly. Then the Knight would definitely think he was. Which he _was_ , but he wasn’t going to admit it. 

“An interesting observation, Tomaxx. But as I said before, my commitment to our mission has not wavered. These things need to be done to meet those ends and I am not one to put things off.”

“But what of the slave?”

“Girl has been entertaining herself in my absence just fine so far.” He growled dismissively.

Tomaxx paused again for a beat. “I’m not sure it’s _entertainment_ that she needs, Master.”

“What she _needs_ ,” Kylo seethed, “is none of your concern.”

The Knight nodded demurely. “Of course, Master. She’s yours to keep after. I only think if she’d going to remain in your keeping that she needs more to do. Slaves thrive on work.”

“She’s been working in the desert of Jakku for her entire life. These days are probably the best respite she’s ever received.”

Tomaxx didn’t say anything else about the matter, merely acquiesced with another low nod, and then silently continued his work. 

Kylo tried to do the same, but something kept niggling at the back of his mind. He thought back to how Girl had looked in the morning—worn out, eyes sunken and clearly shivering even though he’d increased the temperature of the room a few degrees. And then there was the bruise. 

Perhaps he should check with the medidroid now, just to be sure. 

He sifted through a few more files first, making notes here and there about details of interest, and then handed off the datapad to Tomaxx.

“Check through these and see if I’ve missed anything.”

Tomaxx took it with a wordless nod, not saying anything as Kylo put his mask back on and walked out the door, his expression blank but his red eyes knowing. 

* * *

Kylo was heading towards the main medbay when he was called to by someone coming towards him in the corridor.

“Lord Ren,” the officer began, his face stern, “may I have a word?”

Kylo stopped, annoyed. “What is it?”

The officer seemed annoyed as well, which put Kylo immediately into a worsening mood.

“I realize that you have a unique position on board this ship,” the officer began, “one that works not within the First Order hierarchy, but without.”

“Yes,” Kylo agreed in monotone, wondering where this was going.

“But even so, there are certain rules and regulations that everyone on board is to follow for this ship to be as well-run and efficient as possible.”

Kylo gave a small nod. “I agree, and I do my part to make sure the _Finalizer_ remains a well-organized ship. Where are you going with this?”

The Officer took a bolstering breath in. “With all due respect, Milord, you have caused quite the disturbance in the kitchens.”

Kylo felt the air become colder as his temper rose. 

“ _What?_ ”

The officer’s demeanor faltered for a moment, but he stalwartly continued. 

“I realize that perhaps the meals are not always to everyone’s liking, but rejecting almost all of the meals we’ve sent to you wastes our valuable resources, and as they are reserved only for the highest-level officers they cannot be repurposed. There is also the damaged kitchen droid—”

Kylo’s mind whirled, his muscles tensing and gloves creaking in his tight grip.

His voice was low and dangerous, the sound crackling through his mask. 

“What do you mean, I’ve _rejected meals?_ ”

* * *

_Maybe it was a mistake_ , he thought as he tried to _calmly_ and _collectedly_ make his way to the kitchens. But as the kitchen officer directed him to hear the report from an astromech that had obviously been roughly handled, Kylo felt the blood in his veins burn hotter and hotter. There was no mistake. 

He stormed away from the kitchen droid, because if he stood there listening to it’s report for a second longer he was going to do more than dent it’s casing. 

What the hell was Girl up to? Why was she not eating? What did she do to the droid? The questions burned in his mind, warped by the possibility that she could not be the simple slave he had taken her for. That she could be a spy. None of it made sense though, which was why he was determined to interrogate her and find out just what had been going on with her in his absence. 

He recalled her lying about not being hungry her first day, and he’d told her to either eat or starve. Did she take that literally? Was she literally starving herself? To what end? To prove a point? To _spite_ him? 

The corridors narrowed in his pulsing vision. He had to remind himself not to punch the controls on the lift, lest he break them. He paced as it ascended to his floor, hands flexing at his side, breathing heavy. 

He was _furious._

She made a fool out of him in front of the kitchen staff, and he would be sure that she understood how doing such a thing was grounds for _severe punishment._

The lift opened to his floor and he stalked with quickening steps down to his quarters, muscles tense, teeth grit. He snarled as he threw open the door, but he knew before even entering what he would find. He could sense it, or in this case, _not_ sense it.

His rooms were empty. 

Girl was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Rey's POV meeting the Knights...
> 
> OH BOY OH BOY YOU GUYS
> 
> SHITS GETTIN REAL
> 
> :D


	16. It Pulls Me Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's POV meeting the Knights...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter comes from a song of the same name by Butterfly Boucher. I recommend giving it a listen for the feels I was going for.

* * *

The sun beat down on Rey’s head and shoulders as she sat on her knees at the foot of a large sand dune. She was bowed over, feeling like a weight was hung around her neck. She shivered in the freezing wind, her arms holding her torso in a vain attempt to keep in some warmth. 

There was a sifting tray by her, half buried in the sand. She reached out to touch it, and a loud voice by her ear made her flinch.

“GIRL. HURRY UP.”

She looked up, seeing Troog in a dark cloak, face half hidden in shadow. He looked out of place and strange, but Rey couldn’t help but feel terrified. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered. 

“STUPID GIRL,” He bellowed, his teeth silver in his black mouth. “MOVE THE SAND.”

Rey looked down at the sifter. “But this is a sifter, master.”

His meaty fist hit her head, the feeling like a blast of air, making her eardrum ring and her head spin. 

He screamed, his voice different from how she remembered—It was a sound that wasn’t a sound, more of a booming that she felt in her bones. 

“I’M NOT YOUR MASTER, YOU STUPID GIRL, YOU LITTLE SAND SHIT. MOVE THE DUNE. MOVE IT!”

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, the pain distant from her body and yet still she whined from the hurt, holding his wrist to lessen the pressure as he lifted her to her feet. 

“MOVE IT. FROM HERE,” He turned her to show a flat space of sandstone ground, cracked from heat, “TO THERE.” He threw her back down to her knees, his black boots in stark contrast to the pale sand around them.

Rey whimpered, picking up the sifter and digging it into the sand. Just as she thought, the grains fell through the mesh.

“FASTER!” He screeched.

Rey tried to see if going faster might make a difference, and it sort of did. But at this rate it would take a year to move all of the sand. It wasn’t fast enough. 

She looked up tearily to tell Troog she couldn’t do it, and stopped, her words caught in her throat. 

Troog…wasn’t Troog. He was now a tall figure cloaked in wispy black, with a face that was a grimacing silver skull.   
  
“Giirrlll…..” It gurgled and hissed, black muck oozing from between it’s sharp teeth. It pointed with a skeleton hand down at the sand. “Diiiiiggg….”

Gasping and trembling, Rey did as she was told, digging into the sand, the sifter now solid. She dug and dug and dug, not sure why the dark creature wanted her to do this, but she was too afraid of it to ask or to stop. 

She hit something, and used her hands to move the sand around it.

It was a boot. 

It moved.

Rey gasped, “T-there’s someone buried!” 

She dug faster, desperately pushing the sand away that kept sliding into the hole she was creating. She looked over at the dark skeleton figure, which was now three. Blood dripped from their teeth. 

Behind them, a distance away, she saw a child—a young boy. 

“HELP ME!” She wailed. “THERE’S SOMEONE BURIED! HELP—“

She heard the sand shifting, looked back down and the body was moving, coming up from the sand, and sitting up and—

Rey screamed.

The body was rotted, skin peeling off, muscles oozing dark puss, the eyes were gone, nose pushed up the forehead, lips gone, the mouth was a black smoking hole that opened and lunged for her—

“ _GIRL._ ”

Rey woke with a violent start, her arm hitting the wall soundly, sending shooting pain up to her shoulder. She gasped, heart thundering in her chest painfully, her eyes wide as they took in the wall of shelves before her. No sand. No Troog. No—

She struggled to sit up, eyes shut tight as the room spun around her. She’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning from the cold and breathlessness from the darkness pressing down on her from every angle. When she did sleep, her dreams were swirling pitch black nightmares, culminating in the one she was desperately trying to not think about now because she could feel her airway closing up and her skin tightening—

She forced herself to stand, using the wall as support as she caught her breath from the action. Her heart thudded, and she tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat. Her head was beginning to ache. She needed water. 

Rey plodded down the steps, and then stopped, realizing that Lord Ren was standing there. When had he appeared? Was she dreaming still? Was this still part of her nightmare?

He was holding something, which he tossed at her feet. 

“Here,” he growled. “Put these on.” 

Rey looked down. It was clothes again. Her heart rate picked up. Finally, a command, something to do to prove she could be a good slave, an obedient slave. _Bolt by bolt_. 

“Right now, sir?” She asked hoarsely. 

“ _Yes,_ now,” he hissed, the sound so similar to the dream skeleton that she didn’t think, just gave a small “Yessir” and started to lift her shirt to undress immediately.

“STOP,” he yelled, making her freeze.

“Not here,” he hissed in annoyance. “Use the ‘fresher.” 

She let the shirt fall back down, relieved and yet embarrassed that she’d thought he meant _now_ -now, _right here_ -now. She was so stupid. 

“Yessir, sorry, sir,” she mumbled. _Stupid, stupid girl._

“And wash yourself,” he added. “My apprentices have returned and will be by here to meet you soon.”

The first part of his command gave her such relief that she almost collapsed to her knees in thankfulness. _Finally._ Another water shower. Perhaps he wasn’t as angry at her as she thought.

But the second part froze her for half a second while she processed his words. His apprentices…were on the ship. Was that where the Bad Knowing she’d felt last night came from? How the kriff was she going to be able to stand in the presence of such soul-sucking _blackness_ and not fall apart?

“Yessir,” Rey said, picking up the clothes and holding herself stiffly as she walked to the ‘fresher so she wouldn’t stumble or seem as close to fainting as she felt. 

As soon as the ‘fresher door was shut behind her, she dropped her load and fell back against the durasteel, sliding to the floor. She panted, waiting for the dark spots in her vision to fade away before crawling to the shower controls and turning on the water. 

She disrobed as quickly as she could without falling over and then moved under the hot spray. The sudden heat made her hiss and jump back, and her skin prickled painfully. The water wasn’t this hot before, was it? Or was her body becoming like ice on this freezing ship? Would she melt away, slip down the drain into the dark belly of this massive ship if she stayed beneath the water for long enough? 

The steam did warm up her skin after a few minutes, enough so she could quickly duck under the spray directly and scrub herself down. It still burned but she grit her teeth and bore it. It almost reminded her of the Jakku sun, and she felt such a wave of homesickness that she had to step out from beneath the spray to take a few gasping breaths to keep herself from breaking.

She observed with distant worry that her ribs felt more pronounced than usual. Her hip bones jutted out beneath her skin, and the angles of her face felt sharper. Logically she knew it hadn’t been too long since she’d eaten, but she felt and looked like the exiled ones on Jakku, who went weeks without decent food. They either managed to survive on the brink, stealing food and water, or died. Their sun bleached and worn bones emerged from the hot sand after windstorms, picked clean of meat and organs by gnaw-jaws, ripper-raptors, and other desperate stragglers. 

She was probably fine. There was water. As long as she had access to water, she’d be fine. 

She’d be fine. 

The steam was beginning to make it hard for her to breath, so she shut off the water and dried quickly, pulling her hair back deftly into her three buns. It was a style that Nybian had begun for her, once her haphazardly-shorn hair had grown long enough for it. For every bun that she tied, she felt herself breathe a little bit easier.

_‘Bolt by bolt, Little Reybeam.’_

Yes, she could be the vision of a perfect slave for Lord Ren’s apprentices to see. She’d make her master proud. No matter how terrifying they were, how much they pressed down on her mind with their power, she would not break. She _wouldn’t._

Was it possible to feel bone-deep tired and too anxious to rest at the same time? The weakness and lethargy were still weighing on Rey, especially since she was pretty sure her body had burned through the mouthful of bread she’d eaten last night. No doubt all the tossing and turning and shivering in her nest hadn’t helped her retain any energy from the food either. But she was also buzzing with anxious energy. Like her body was preparing for a fight.

Rey sighed, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She wanted to sleep. But it would have to come later, when Lord Ren left her alone again. 

_If_ he left her. She was hopeful that he would give her tasks today. 

Desperately hopeful. 

She dressed, rewrapping her chest but forgoing her loin cloth because it was in desperate need of a thorough wash. She had no time now so she’d just have to do it later. She folded it up and hid it under the other soiled clothes in the corner of the ‘fresher, then stood up straight and took in a deep breath. 

It was a blessing to feel clean again, especially after her feversickness and various other sweat- and body odor-inducing activities. She wished she could shower every day. 

Lord Ren was still out in the adjacent room, pacing. He stopped when she entered the room, his mask dipping as he openly appraised her.   
  
Rey hoped she wasn’t shaking as visibly as she felt she was. The heat from her shower had warmed her bones but it felt like it was all for naught; the freezing room was sucking all the heat from her again at a rapid pace. 

She realized that this was the first time she’d been able to have Lord Ren’s undivided time and attention since she’d decided to _bolt by bolt_ her way into his good graces. She needed to take advantage of this. She was hopeful he would have her at his side more today, but she also didn’t know if she’d get this chance again anytime soon. 

She just needed him to know that she can follow directions. She can obey. 

“Sir,” she called hesitantly.

“What?”

She swallowed, suddenly unsure, taking a few breaths to calm her racing heart. 

“Yesterday, earlier in the day,” she paused, feeling herself become slightly lightheaded, Was she listing to the side? She pressed her fists to her stomach to ground herself and continued. 

“I-I think there was someone outside the door.” Her voice cracked, and she hung her head to hide the shame brightening her cheeks. “It frightened me, so I hid in the ‘fresher, as you told me.” 

Troog had yelled at her in the beginning for running in fear from a violent thief instead of fighting. She learned to fight back quickly after that, lest she incur a far worse punishment from her master. But Lord Ren had told her to hide. 

_Please tell me I was good_ , she thought. _Please be happy with me. I can follow commands. I can obey._

“It was probably just a passing officer,” Lord Ren mused. “Occasionally they come down this corridor to access the express lift,” his voice lowered to a robotic grumble, “although they aren’t supposed to.”

Rey didn’t want to argue with him—she much preferred this explanation over the idea that someone had been there to hurt her—and so she accepted it with a nod. But she knew it hadn’t been someone passing by. They’d stood in front of the door. They’d been angry and frustrated. 

“You don’t need to hide in the ‘fresher every time someone passes by,” he scolded, the words like a knife to Rey’s heart. “Only if someone tries to come in.”

_Stupid, useless girl._

It felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She’d…she’d done what he said. She’d obeyed. Why wasn’t he happy?

“Sorry, sir,” she whispered hoarsely, her heart in her throat, head lowered. 

“Head up, Girl,” He commanded sharply, and she immediately complied just as a feeling of inky darkness washed over her. “They’re here.”

Rey put all of her remaining energy into making her spine as rigid as possible. She couldn’t help the tremors of chills that wracked her body, but she’d stand tall as she faced down whatever came through those doors. 

She’s not sure what she expected, maybe two clones of Lord Ren, maybe the two silver skulled wraiths from her nightmare. The reality was much, much more terrifying, because they had physical form. They actually existed and took up space. 

When the door hissed open, Rey watched with growing dread as two dark killers entered the room. 

She knew that Lord Ren was dangerous. He had shown it with his rage against the table and with his rage against her, and she had seen him kill master Troog without any hesitation or regret. He’d admitted to it, as if admitting that he’d gone for a walk. Emotionless, nothing unusual. Yes, Lord Ren was a killer too. 

But these apprentices felt lethal in the way disease and starvation and old age was lethal: Indiscriminate. Inevitable. And without mercy.

And by the looks of the tail and claws, one of them was a _kriffing Barabel_.

More and more, Rey was starting to think that maybe Lord Ren was not a benevolent person in the galaxy. Not if his apprentices looked and _felt_ like this. 

They wore masks similar to Lord Ren’s, but the silver lines were in different designs around their visors, and the shape of the Barabel’s was molded to fit it’s snout. They wore all dark clothing, various weapons strapped to their persons as if they came to fight. And they, too, had metal tubes attached to their hips, just visible beneath their cloaks as they walked in. They were wielders of flaming swords as well then. 

The three of them, apprentices and Master, were like black splotches against the white durasteel and blaring white lights. Rey herself felt like she was becoming that way, from the soul up, like the dark pressure reverberating around her in the shrinking room was penetrating her body. Like radiation.

She remembered seeing someone affected by radiation poisoning once as a child. Would she turn out the same way, skin turned black, eyes bleeding, body falling apart? The image of the animated corpse from her nightmare came to the forefront of her mind and she blinked quickly to banish it. 

She would not faint in front of these creatures. She would not shame her master. 

“Girl,” Lord Ren spoke, drawing her wide gaze in his direction. “These are my two apprentices, my Knights of Ren. This is Tomaxx Ren,” the humanoid one gave a minute nod, “and Cseenan Ren.” The Barabel did the same, the claws of his hands flexing as if he’d much rather be tearing into her soft flesh. She needed to stay far away from that one. 

“You will refer to them as Lord Tomaxx and Lord Cseenan.” 

Rey felt confused. If they were also Ren, then did that mean Lord Ren had a different name? A first name? Why did he give them his family name? Were they a family?

Again, Rey felt the air sucked out from her lungs. She wasn’t allowed to be a part of this. She would never be a Ren. She was just….Girl, a slave. 

“Yessir,” she remembered to say, her mind replying on autopilot. It was becoming hard to stand. She gripped her shaking hands to masked how affected she was, one small remaining hope bringing her words out of her mouth. Perhaps she could show Lord Ren how good she could be through his apprentices. Yes, she’d offer, even though she felt like being any closer to them would send her into a mental breakdown. 

“Is…is there anything I can do for you, Lords?”

“No,” Lord Ren answered instead, tearing Rey’s last spark to shreds. “We have things to attend to elsewhere.”

“But should we need your assistance,” Lord Tomaxx added, and Rey flinched from the sound of his masked voice. It sounded like the silver skeleton from her nightmare. She almost expected black tar to start oozing from the visor. “We will surely let you know.” 

Rey nodded shakily with a breathy “Yessir.” Dark spots were beginning to appear in her vision. 

“Very well then,” Lord Ren droned, indicating wordlessly to his apprentices, his _Knights_ , and like one they turned and exited the rooms.

As soon as the door hissed shut behind them, Rey collapsed. 

She gasped for air, her arms shaking as they tried to hold her up, but she just…she just couldn’t…get… _air_.

The black spots were like fast-growing skin spots in her vision. And then she fainted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Memories, nightmares, and dreams
> 
> Want more musical angst? Listen to 'Drean' by Cloud Boat.
> 
> Next update will be on Tuesday 3/17.
> 
> (P.S. I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy amid this coronavirus stuff. My dad is sick already so I'm stressed he might get it and get really really sick :'( What a year 2020 has been)


	17. The Silence and the Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories from Rey's turbid childhood, and a dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of and acts of child abuse/bullying 
> 
> Music rec for this chapter: 'Organs' by Of Monsters and Men
> 
> HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY :D

* * *

Rey was five when her mother sold her to Vins Gheef. It was the only way she’d be able to get off planet, and she was hoping to find the man who’d impregnated her. They were in love, see, but Rey was never supposed to happen. Rey had ruined her happiness. Rey was unwanted. 

The young woman, too young to be a mother, too concerned with her own wellbeing to care for a child, grasped Rey’s arms as she kneeled. 

_“You’re gonna go with this lady here, okay? Momma has to go somewhere now. You be good for her, okay? If you’re good, I’ll come back for you. Okay?”_

Maybe Rey’s mother thought she was doing Rey a favor by selling her. Or maybe at that point she had no cares left to give for the child she had birthed. Her parting caress of Rey’s small, tear-streaked face was the last bit of kindness the child felt for a long time. 

Because Vins Gheef was many things, but she was most of all an exceptionally cruel person. 

With barely concealed contempt the slaver motioned for her sentinel to grab Rey, wrenching the wailing child from her mother who stood and watched expressionlessly for a moment before turning and disappearing forever.

As soon as Rey was brought to Vins’ encampment, the gaudily dressed Twi’Lek woman rounded on the child. 

_“Listen up, little sand shit, you stop crying.”_ _**SLAP.** “I said STOP.”_  
  
Shocked from the rough treatment, Rey gasped for breath, swallowing down a sob.  
  
Vins bared her sharp teeth. _“No one wants you. No one cares about you. Only I do, and only if you’re useful to me. Are you useful? Huh?”_ She pushed at Rey, making her stumble back on short legs. 

_“Y-yes,”_ she hiccuped. 

_“If you aren’t, there’s no reason for me to keep you. I’ll put you out in the desert and leave you. The gnaw-jaws will hunt you down, they’ll tear your little body to shreds I SAID STOP CRYING.” **SLAP.**_

Rey learned how to cry silently. And most importantly she learned to be useful, because if you weren’t, you were as good as dead. She watched other children who couldn’t keep up with the work be taken away. She never saw them again, but she remembers the crying at night, when they were left outside the safety of the camp. Remembers the screams when the gnaw-jaws and other night monsters got to them. 

It was a cutthroat operation that Rey became a slave to—mining for precious stones and metals in the unforgiving terrain of Jakku. Vins used strong-muscled adults for the heavy lifting and keeping guard, but the children were good for sifting, for getting into small crevices and scoping out possible veins of interest in caves and dried gullies.

If you found something of interest, you were rewarded with food and water. 

Very quickly Rey learned not to trust anyone, because more than once in the beginning her find was stolen by someone she thought was a friend. Going to bed hungry too many nights in a row taught her to be sneaky. Taught her to be stronger. Taught her to be silent.

She started to get a Feeling sometimes, one that told her where to look. It was like finding a patch of air that hummed without sound. When she moved her hand over it, her tiny bones vibrated. She started to find more gems, more veins. Vins began to have a special interest in her, although she was no kinder for it, and the other children began to hate her. 

They started to play pranks, started to sabotage her work, and there was nothing she could do. She was too small, too young, too weak. The other children had been there for years now, and the oldest was fifteen, and a cunning liar. 

_“Mistress Vins,”_ they said. _“The sand shit says she wants more water.”_

Rey looked up with wide, terrified eyes. _“N-no I didn’t!”_

Vins’ head jerked around. _“What?!”_ She rose from her canopied seat, marching up to Rey in a cloud of dust and fury and expensive linens, grabbing the child’s tunic roughly. _“Who the fuck do you think you are, little cretin? You think you can be so greedy? Asking for water? I I I, Me me me?” **SLAP. “** No, you little sand shit. From now on you can only call yourself by what you are. And what is that? Huh? What are you?”_ Vins gave her a shake, jarring her. 

_“A s-slave.”_

_“That’s right. A slave. A disgusting, dirty slave. So what was that? What did you say?”_

Rey’s lower lip trembled. _“I didn’t—“_

_**SLAP.**_

_“Wrong. Try again.”_

_“I—“_

**_SLAP SLAP._** Blood dripped from Rey’s nose. 

“ _WRONG. Say it after me, ‘This slave.’”_

Rey whimpered, looking around but everyone just stared, either expressionless or openly disdainful. No mercy. No help. 

Rey trembled. _“Th-this s-slave.”_

_“That’s right. This slave, what?”_

_“This s-s-slave…didn’t say ah-anything, mistress.”_

_“That sounds much better.”_ Vins stood, smiling at the attentive crowd without warmth, teeth sharp. _“See? Such a good little slave, isn’t it?”_

And Rey was made to speak of herself that way for the next four years, until she hardly remembered what she was called before. The memories of her mother and who she had been were buried deep beneath her need to survive. 

What a sight she must have been for Nybian Et-Opunrest, the merchant woman who had been traveling with her caravan past the site where Vins and her crew of children had been working. Rey was there, ten years old now, a collar around her thin neck, a chain connecting it held in a sentinel’s hand. Having been ‘promoted’ to Finder, she was being led around, forced to point where she felt a Feeling. 

She was bleeding from a cut on her temple, red blood a shock of color against her sand-dusted skin. She’d been tripped by another child, falling onto a sharp rock. Her hair was shorn at odd angles, the skin of her scalp blistering from sun exposure, the loss of her head wraps a punishment for pointing wrong the day before. 

Nybian broke from the caravan on the back of her Thissermount, watching the child with somber interest, and then approached the sentinel.

 _“You there,”_ she called. _“How much for the boy?”_

The sentinel sneered, tugging on the chain to make the child jolt.

_“This? It’s a girl, and it’s not for sale.”_

_“Are you her master?”_

_“No, but it’s not for sale.”_

Nybian set her face, the lines deep from age and wear. _“I want to speak to the master of this operation. You will show me to them.”_

The sneer dropped from the sentinel’s face. _“I’ll show you to her. Right this way.”_

Vins almost had Nybian killed for her audacity. But in the end, she traded Rey for Nybian’s Luggabeast, which had been outfitted with special optical instruments that could be calibrated for scanning precious metals and stones. Unlike Rey, it didn’t need to be fed or given water. It didn’t cry, either. 

But Rey had been beaten of her ability to cry a long time ago. Beaten of her ability to laugh or smile, or even to speak. When Nybian brought her into her camp, washed and cleaned her cuts, wrapped her in clean clothes, gave her food and water, the child didn’t react. She was as if just a soulless body, and if she’d been knocked against she would ring hollow inside. It took Nybian months to hear anything other than ‘yes, master, no, master’ from the girl. She never asked for anything, never complained of heat, hunger, thirst, nor pain.

But Nybian was patient. And Nybian was kind. She talked to Rey as they travelled, as they worked, cleaned, and ate. Telling her stories, remarking about a beautiful design, a funny-looking rock, the ugliness of a customer (after they left and were out of earshot, of course). Every day when they were finished selling Nybian’s odd wares, the old woman would bend down, her weathered hand caressing Rey’s cheek with a smile and an earnest _“good job, kiddo.”_ Even if they didn’t sell anything, even if all Rey did was sit and stare endlessly at the floor.

The first time the old master got any real reaction out of the girl, any emotion other than blank hollowness, was when Nybian said she wanted to play a game. 

_“It’s a very simple game, Missy.”_ She’d taken to calling her the nickname, since Rey only ever hoarsely whispered ‘This Slave’ whenever she’d asked for a name.

_“We sit just like this on the ground, legs crossed, that’s it, Missy, just like that. Now put your hands flat-like on top of mine, perfect, okay, now look into my eyes. It’s okay, I want to see your pretty eyes. That’s very good. Now, I bet I can guess what you’re thinkin’. See? It’s very easy for you! You don’t have to talk at all. Just think, very hard, about the answer. Ready?”_

 _“Yes, master,”_ she whispered. 

_“Okay, I’ll ask a question or say somethin’, you think hard about the first thing that comes to mind. Sound fun?”_

Rey’s lips twitched but she didn’t speak. Nybian took it as a yes, and continued. 

_“Okay, let’s start easy. It’s been a while since this old gal played this game. Now…what’s your favorite color?”_

Rey’s eyes flickered down to the yellow beads hanging around Nybian’s neck. 

_“Hmm…_.” The old woman hummed, eyes squinting. _“…Yellow?”_ She guessed with a quirked brow. 

Rey nodded minutely. 

Nybian smiled. _“Whoopee! I still got it. Ready for another question?”_

Unconvinced, but curious, Rey nodded again. 

_“What’s your favorite food?”_

This time Rey’s brow furrowed as she thought. She looked away briefly to think, and then was caught up in Nybian’s entrancing gaze again. 

_“Ah,”_ the old woman mused after a moment. _“Tuanulberries. I remember we found some a few weeks ago. It was a real treat, huh?”_

Rey looked confused, her eyes widening in surprise. 

_“I got it right, yes?”_  
  
The girl nodded, the twitch of her brows the only evidence of bewilderment.

Nybian clapped her hands together in victory. _“Ompamililu! Okay let’s keep going!”_

And on she went, asking question after question, sometimes just saying a keyword, getting almost every answer right. Rey’s countenance became more and more in awe, because how could this woman know? How was she doing it? Rey was beginning to let her guard down, too amazed by the woman’s magical ability to read her mind to shield herself from the next prompt.

_“Okay, this next one is tough, so don’t think too hard, just let it come right up to the surface. Here we go:”_ Nybian made a show of shifting in her seat, rolling out her shoulders, and then leaning forward so that her nose was almost touching Rey’s, her mockingly serious face making Rey’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. 

_“What name did your mother call you?”_

Rey blinked, sitting back slightly, but she couldn’t help the word that floated to the forefront of her mind, the musical lilt of a young woman’s voice speaking it in a vague echo.

_“…Rey.”_ Nybian repeated just as softly, her wrinkled eyes sad, and yet joyful. _“Your name is Rey, isn’t it?”_

Rey reeled back, her breathing coming fast, looking every bit like she wanted to run, run far _far_ away, because she could believe that all the other answers the old master had gotten correct had been some sort of trick or great ability of observation and guessing, but how could…how could she know this? How could she guess this? Rey tried to get up but Nybian had her hands in a strong grip, keeping her anchored. 

_“It’s okay, Rey,”_ she insisted quietly, earnestly. _“You can use your name, you can be Rey again. It’s okay, child.”_

_“Rey,”_ the old woman started, but she stopped as Rey’s young face twisted, tears blurring her vision. She whined brokenly, trembling violently, shaking her head, _no no no no_ , trying weakly to get out of the grip on her hands. 

_“Thi-s s-slave…this s-slave—“_

Nybian pulled the girl into her arms, tears falling from her own eyes. _“It’s okay, Rey, you can cry. You can cry, Rey, just let it out. Just let it out.”_  
  
Rey let out a broken sob, hands fisted in the woman’s robe. The gentle hands on her back felt so kind.  
  
_“There, Rey, just like that. Good girl. Just cry, Rey.”_

She shook her head, _no no no_ , but something shattered within her, and she sobbed, loudly, quaking like a dried leaf in the soft embrace holding her, and then she _wailed_ , tears streaming down her sun kissed cheeks, her breaths hitching and wheezing, and as Nybian quietly coached her, gently encouraged her, 

Rey began to _scream._

_“That’s it, Rey.”_ Nybain cooed. _“Use that beautiful voice. You scream until the scream goes away. Just let it out, Rey. My little Reybeam. Just let it out. Scream, Rey. Scream.”_

* * *

Rey woke up on the cold durasteel floor of Lord Ren’s rooms and wanted to scream. 

She gasped for air, drawing in draughts like she’d just come up from being caught in the sinking sand fields. She was shaking, trembling, from the cold and from everything feeling so _wrong_ and _bad_ and she caught movement in the corner of her eye and saw Nybian, standing in the cold durasteel room, and her breath left her in a silent _woosh._

_How._

Rey stood on shaking legs, almost unable to stand because she was so kriffing tired, so damned weak, but it was master _Nybian._ And even though this was just another dream, even though she would wake up on a durasteel floor again, cold and alone and sick, here and now in this imagined space maybe she could get some resemblance of comfort again. 

“M-master Nybian,” she choked, staggering forward. The room swayed, the old woman blurred in and out of existence, and Rey stopped, trying to breath, trying to stabilize her vision, because otherwise Nybian might disappear. 

_“What are you doin, sittin’ there cryin’ in the sand for?”_ The old master said, amused and concerned. 

“I don’t know what to do, master,” Rey keened, “I can’t do anything right. I’m useless. I’m worthless. Lord Ren is going to kill me. He’s going to _kill_ me.”

_“Never look farther than what you got in your hands, Rey.”_

Rey gestured wildly. “But I don’t have anything! Lord Ren hasn’t given me anything to work with! How can I get on his good side, how can I prove that I’m useful, if he doesn’t give me anything to do?”

 _“Bolt by bolt, little Reybeam,”_ Nybian said, smiling. _“Bolt by bolt—“_

“Shut up SHUT UP!” Rey screamed, hands going over her ears. “You STUPID OLD WOMAN!” She gasped for breath, her voice hoarse with her loud agony. “That doesn’t work! I never finished that kriffing speeder! I never did it! Because I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t fast enough, and then you DIED.” Her breath hitched, a sob crawling up her throat. “I-I can’t do this! I _can’t._ Bolt by Bolt _doesn’t work!”_

_“Bolt by bolt…bolt by bolt…bolt by—“_

Rey watched in horror as Nybian began to melt, her skin and muscle and everything melting against her bones, dripping down to the floor in a puddle of blood and liquid entrails and white hair. 

Rey staggered backwards, falling against the couch when the backs of her knees hit it. She curled up on it, eyes screwed shut, hands over her ears, rocking herself. 

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s not real, she’s dead, it’s not her, It’s just a dream, just a dream….” 

She stayed there, repeating her soft chant, holding herself, trying to breath, trying to not let the fizzling thing beneath her skin come out, until she felt something else in the room with her.   
  
Her breath caught in her chest. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked over. 

It was the young boy from her earlier dream. He was back. Except, in this dream he looked like a holo, blue and transparent. 

“You don’t look so good,” he said with a frown. 

Rey panted, licked her dry lips. “I don’t feel so good.”

His head cocked to the side. “You’re from Jakku, right?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“Lot’s of sand there. _Blegh,_ ” he made a face and Rey let out a small ‘ha’, half out of understanding and half in disbelieving bemusement at the ridiculous turn this dream had taken. 

“Lot’s of sand, yeah. And sun.” Maker, she missed the sun. She missed warmth. She felt like she had none left to give anymore. She just wanted to curl up and sleep.

The boy looked around, his lips pursed. “Not much sand or sun here. Oh!” His eyes lit up, and Rey focused her wavering gaze on him. “I know where we could see the sun! C’mon, follow me.” He motioned for her excitedly, taking a few steps towards the door.

Rey shook her head. “I can’t. I’m not supposed to leave.”

“We’ll be super duper quick, I _promise_.” 

Rey frowned at him, and he started to pout. “Please? Pretty please?”

Her frown softened. This was a dream, right? So what was the harm in following this boy? Maybe her mind would create a beautiful landscape for her. A harmless dream would be a sweet reprieve from the horrible nightmares she’d been having lately. 

“Alright,” she agreed, standing unsteadily. Her head pounded and her heart thudded in an uneven rhythm in her hollow chest. She listed to the side, but managed to catch herself on the arm of the couch. 

“C’mon!” He repeated, standing by the door.

Rey caught her breath as best she could, and then took tentative steps forward. When she was close enough the boy turned to look at the door, closing his eyes for a moment, and then it slid open.

He walked forward into the corridor, giving her an over-the-shoulder grin. After a steadying beat, Rey smiled lightly and dreamily followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOO 
> 
> GETTING THERE
> 
> I'm curious what y'all think is going to happen next.
> 
> hint:
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey's dream becomes a nightmare...
> 
> The next posting date will be this Friday 3/20 :D


	18. The Corridor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finds sunlight, but her dream turns into a nightmare...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys I was completely blown away by y'all's response to last chapter!! Seriously I was tearing up reading some of your comments, and I have filed your words away in my heart forever <3<3<3  
> I really look forward to hearing all of your thoughts!! Always!! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit short but hoooo boy ;D

* * *

The corridor was grey. 

It was the first thing that Rey distantly noticed as she and the boy walked. Maybe she’d noticed the difference before, the times the door had opened for droids or Lord Ren. But being out in the corridor where the lights didn’t feel nearly as blinding, where the grey felt somehow like it would mask her instead of throw her in stark contrast, it was made all the more obvious. 

Her bare feet pattered softly on the cold floor panels—black, shiny, like ink—as she dutifully followed after the dream-boy, the holo-boy. He looked over his shoulder, light-colored hair bouncing, a sweet smile on his young face, dimples in his cheeks. Who was he? Rey had never seen him before, but he looked like he could have come from Jakku. Maybe he was someone she’d forgotten. A fellow slave, or a scavenger.

Rey looked around her dreamily, trying to take in all of the amazing details she’d managed to conjure up, but her eyes began to hurt from the strain so she focused on the boy instead.

“Where are we going?” She asked breathlessly. It was difficult to walk and talk at the same time. 

“To see the sun, remember? Hey,” he stopped, a frown on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Rey whispered, having paused to lean against a wall. “I’ll be fine. Let’s keep going.”

The young boy’s eyes went from innocent concern to ancient and knowing in an instant, startling Rey somewhat. They flickered to something behind her and then when they returned to her face they were young again. 

“C’mon. It’s just this way. We gotta be quick, though.”

Rey sighed, hand pressed to her aching chest. “Okay.”

They turned a corner and immediately Rey’s eyes were drawn to an inconspicuous door a few speeder lengths down. There was something behind that door. Something _dark._

Her lethargic steps slowed as they passed it, her eyes unable to look away, as if something might spring forth from it the moment she did. Her ribs felt constricted again. She heard whispering and looked over her shoulder, but the grey corridor was empty.

“What’s in there?” She asked hoarsely, looking back at the door, shaking.

“It’s not for you,” the holo-boy answered. His face was serious as he insisted in a low voice, “Never go in there. Never read anything. Never listen.”

Rey wondered if this nice dream was about to turn into a nightmare again. She did _not_ want that to happen, so she nodded quickly and continued to walk, hoping that by getting far away from the door things would return to pleasantness again.

They got down to the end and turned another corner, and Rey could see light. _Real_ light. It shone in on the floor and wall from a small viewport near where the corridor dead-ended at a closed storm door. 

As they approached it Rey thought she could already feel the warmth, thought she could almost touch it with her hands. She reached out to see if she could grasp it, maybe take it with her, pushing her shaking limb into the yellow-gold beam.

_Warmth._

She looked at the viewport, it was about the size of her head, placed just slightly above her shoulders so she had to stretch up a little bit to fit her whole face. She wanted to feel the sun on her skin. 

And there it was, somewhere in the distance, unobstructed by any planets or atmospheres, burning bright and hot in the freezing vacuum. She didn’t know which sun it was, if it was the one she’d grown up under or if it was from a different system, but it didn’t matter. 

It was _warmth_. It was _life_. 

Rey felt tears in her eyes as the light warmed her skin, even just minutely. Her heart felt a little less like it was going to break as she basked in the feeling. It was better than the terrible coldness of the artificial lights, better than the ice of the durasteel. 

What she wouldn’t give to be back on Jakku, feeling the sun beat down on her skin mercilessly again. 

Rey reached up to touch the transparisteel, hoping it would be warm as well. But it was cold so she pulled back. She couldn’t stand the cold anymore, she didn’t want to feel it, she just wanted to be warm again. 

But it was like the ship had heard her and wanted to spite her. She could tell it was moving, turning. The sun was moving away, crawling across the blackness until it was no longer visible, until it’s rays disappeared and all the warmth and life with them.

A deep darkness fell upon her then, as if the sun disappearing sucked all of the light out of her body as it did the space around it. Her lungs felt constricted, her mind felt like it was being stuffed with something oily and black.

Rey’s breath hitched in her throat. Her dream was turning into a nightmare. 

She turned and looked down to ask the boy _why,_ but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere in the corridor. 

As Rey turned the other way to look back the way she’d come, she froze. It was an instinct from years of warnings and conditioning on Jakku. Don’t move. Don’t run. _Never run._

As the adrenaline rushed through her system and the area around her became sharp, became _real,_ Rey had the horrible dawning realization that she wasn’t asleep. This was no dream. 

It was a _waking nightmare_ , because standing in the entryway of the corridor where she’d turned the corner was the Barabel apprentice, Cseenan Ren. 

His mask was off, putting his razor-sharp teeth and black-as-death eyes on full display. He smiled a sharp, twisted smile. 

“I found you, little slave, little _pet_.” 

Rey heard the sound of her breath wheezing through the tightness in her throat, heard the blood pumping in her ears, felt her skin prickle with sudden sweat. There was no weapons nearby for her to defend herself, and there was no way to run. Barabels were exceptionally skilled hunters, and lethal fighters. Even if he didn’t have the flaming sword, his claws and teeth would be enough to end her life very quickly.

“You’re out of your cage,” he rasped, his tail moving languidly as he slowly stalked forward, a predators prowl. “I went to Master’s rooms to see, to ask you, to answer a curio I have.”

Rey took a small step back, basically just shifting her weight, and she saw his neck scales bristle, his muscles tense as if readying to pounce. She froze again, barely breathing, until he took in a deep breath, the claws of his hands clicking as he moved them rhythmically against each other. 

“I wondered,” he growled, pausing, then gave a dark, gravely laugh. “I have these runner-thoughts, see. Master and Tomaxx help me control them, give me ground to dig my claws into when I feel them start to run away with me. But I wondered,” he took another prowling step forward. “And the runner-thought got away with me...” 

Another step. 

“…How easy can the pet’s bones snap?” 

Rey’s heart dropped as he gave a chilling grin. 

“How easy would it be to just…bend your tiny twig arms until they… _break?”_

Rey couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were wide, her body trembling, her mind kept telling her to run, screaming at her to just RUN, but she also knew that doing so would be her end even more quickly. A Barabel’s instinct was to chase. If she ran and somehow got by him, he would be unstoppable.   
  
Lord Cseenan continued, getting ever closer, just a couple speeder lengths away now. 

“Master said you only show the true power of your Force-feelies during ‘ _strong emotional upheaval’_.” He snorted. “I may be short on the brains, but I can understand _fear_ words better than anything.” He breathed in deeply through his nostrils, eyelids fluttering. “Mmmmm…” He stared at her openly again, teeth glistening with saliva. “Delicious.” 

Oh, Maker, oh, gods, he was going to eat her. He was going to cut her open and eat her while she lay screaming, drowning in her own blood. She’d seen it happen before. 

A hissing sound from behind her startled both of them, and she dared to turn her head. The storm door had been opened, and a person in a crisp grey and black uniform stood with his hand on the controls. His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, and then he pressed the door to shut again. 

Rey wanted to call out, to scream, NO DON’T LEAVE ME, but suddenly she saw a possible opening. She was closer to the storm door than the Barabel was to her. If she moved fast enough, she could run, open the door, and close it behind her before he got to her. 

Yes, that was the plan. It was either that or die. But at least this way she had a fighting chance. 

Without giving another second for Lord Cseenan to get any closer, Rey turned and sprinted for the control panel. She heard his intake of breath, excitement, blood lust, and hunger in the air. She heard his steps, his claws clicking, his breathy snarl of the hunt, a demon finally set free.

Rey slammed her palm on the control, and the door didn’t open.

The officer person had locked it on the other side. 

Rey turned, her lungs filling as she prepared to scream, the lunging Barabel all darkness and hunger and death as he filled everything she could see, claws pointed for her torso, head and mouth angled for her neck. 

Death stood down the corridor, waiting for her.

But it wasn’t death.

It was Lord Ren.

And suddenly everything became slow-motion as Lord Cseenan just _paused_ , midair, for a split second, claws inches away from their target, black eyes zeroed in on her, before he was pulled away as if by a rope around his middle. He catapulted in a heap down the durasteel floor, towards Lord Ren, then scrambled with claws and snarls to an upright position, scales bristling as he readied to attack again, to tear apart the one who had dared come between him and his kill. 

“ENOUGH,” Lord Ren bellowed, his flaming sword in his hand like a crimson slash amongst the grey and black, casting a red glow against the polished floor. He was stood tall, tensely, ready to fight.

Rey dared not breathe, dared not make a move nor a sound. 

The air was stiff, the tension a whining bandsaw between the two dark figures. 

“Cseenan Ren,” Lord Ren commanded sternly, “go back to the Situation room and assist Tomaxx.” 

The Barabel hissed, tail twitching, claws retracting and pushing out again. 

“ _Now_ , Cseenan Ren. _Go now_.”

The Knight looked back at her, breathing heavily, saliva dripping from his teeth to the floor. Rey tucked her arms in close to her chest, even though she knew it was a futile defense against Lord Cseenan should he lunge again, which he looked like he was about to do again—

Lord Ren took a tense step forward, both hands on his sword now, his voice thundering a deep guttural statement that pierced Rey like a knife. 

“Cseenan, the girl is **_MINE_**.”

At that the Barabel looked back at the Master abruptly, the bristling of his scales stilling, his stance changing from aggressive challenger to contrite subordinate in the span of a moment. 

“Master’s,” he rasped, head bowed. “Master’s slave.”

The air was still thick as Lord Ren ordered the Knight back again. “Go to Tomaxx. Stay with him until I relieve you. _Now.”_

“Yes, Master,” Lord Cseenan grumbled, dark eyes flickering once more at Rey, making her heart jolt, before he turned and moved past Lord Ren. 

The master’s head turned to watch him go, not turning off his sword until Rey could hear the sound of a door somewhere down the corridor open and shut. 

And then they were alone, the two of them, master and slave. 

And Rey stood, trembling, the corner she was leaning against the only thing keeping her up. 

Lord Ren turned to look at her, clipping the deactivated metal hilt to his wide belt. His fists shook at his sides, and Rey knew.

She may have been spared the Barabel’s claws, but now she had her master’s wrath to contend with.

Either way, Rey knew she was dead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS
> 
> GUYSSS
> 
> NEXT CHAPTERRRRRRRRRRR
> 
> AHHH
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey is confronted by a very angry Lord Ren...
> 
> Posting date will be Tuesday 3/24 at around 8pm Japan time :D
> 
> [EDIT 04/25/2020] I drew an illustration for this chapter :D It's also on my [Tumblr.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/71737c6313cd85e8f9089cb8559df145/d82c15d9ab417c98-d0/s1280x1920/cccb94c31ab3295906398b593d3fb6421a96ee79.png)


	19. Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is confronted by a *very* angry Lord Ren...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SLAPS HANDS AGAINST THE TABLE LIKE AN EXCITED BABY*

Lord Ren stalked towards her on heavy boots, wordlessly grabbing her arm in an unbreakable grip and roughly frog-marching her the way they’d come. She stumbled a couple times, her legs unable to keep up with his long strides. She tried, but she just didn’t have the energy. 

He all but dragged her back to his quarters, shoving her in, the door shutting behind him as he stalked in after her. She tripped, falling heavily on her side but quickly scrambled up, not wanting to be pressed to the ground again by his Force powers. 

Lord Ren began pacing back and forth like a stalking predator, his arms and hands flexing as if preparing for a fight. The anger coming from him was almost visible, like a heat wave. But to Rey it felt like a blast of frigid air, and she shivered violently where she stood, trying to breathe past the lightness in her head.

He snarled, turning on her with a finger in her face. “You! I gave you three rules to follow. Only three! And you managed to break two of them within a week. Were you this disobedient on Jakku, or is this because you think you can get away with it here?”

Rey shook her head.

“No what? SPEAK,” he commanded, the strength of his modulated voice making her flinch and whine.

“No, Lord Ren,” she whimpered, “I don’t think I can get away with it here. I—“

“So this is normal, this disobedience?”

“N-no, I—“

“It’s no wonder you were being sold,” he snarled, “I have half a mind to do the same just to be rid of the _nuisance_ you’ve become.”

Rey choked back a sob, wiping the tears from her eyes in a futile attempt to mask their existence. _Useless. Worthless. Unwanted._

“P-please, sir, please don’t.”

He began pacing angrily again. “And the kitchens tell me you’ve sent back almost all of the meals they made for you.”

He stopped, gesturing at her sharply, “Is that what you want? To starve yourself to death? Do you want to die?” He pushed into her space, making her stumble back a step, his frightening mask inches from her nose. 

“My master told me to throw you out an airlock when I first brought you aboard. I went against his command and vouched for you. I told him you had value, that you could be trained someday.” Rey felt her breath leave her, her chest tight. Lord Ren tilted his head. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

“N-no, sir. Thats not what—“

“So what, then? Were the meals not to your liking? Are your tastes more _refined?”_ The sneer in his robotic voice was like a punch to the gut, and Rey felt a dam break within her. Shame and embarrassment and misery flooded her whole being, making her face twist into a mask of sorrowful agony.

She shook her head, the words not forming, not coming out. They needed to. She _had_ to speak.

“I-it m—“ she swallowed, trying to control her voice, trying to control the fear threatening to silence her. “It makes m-me sick.”

_“WHAT DOES?”_ He thundered. “My rooms? The datapad I gave you? Me? Tell me, _princess_ , what exactly makes you _sick.”_

Something else came out of the rush of burning turmoil inside of her: reckless frustration. If he was going to throw her out an airlock, she may as well say all of the things that she wanted to say, that she _needed_ to say, however it was going to come out.

_“That’s it, Rey. Just let it out. Scream, Rey._

_Scream.”_

She looked up directly at his visor and threw her hands out in sudden blaring exasperation, her shriek ringing loudly in the frigid room.

“The FOOD, you _thick-headed_ **MONSTER!** ” 

She quickly continued while he froze, and the words spilled out of her like hot ash, burning her up from the inside, her voice hoarse and cracking from emotion and misuse. 

“The _food_ makes me SICK! I threw up the first meal within minutes; It made me so sick I thought you’d _poisoned it!_ And then when I thought maybe you hadn’t tainted it to teach me a lesson, I tried to eat another one and the same thing happened! The _food_ here makes me _sick!_ And I was tired of vomiting into the toilet, and too scared that you would catch me a-and punish me f-for it, a-and I thou-ght they c-could give it to someone b-better! So I-“ she choked on a sob, “I just s-sent it all b-back!” 

She wheezed, her hands covering her face in shame and fear and because she just couldn’t look at her master anymore right then. It was such a failing, being this much of a problem, and even more of a failing that she hadn’t figured out a solution and had to tell her master so. 

And _kriffing hell,_ what did she just call him? A thick-headed monster? _To his face?_

Rey wished he would just throw her out now. She felt compelled to just turn and run, and maybe he’d end her misery quickly with his sword. Maybe the Barabel could do it for him. 

Lord Ren was standing stiffly, only his ragged breathing audible over her wheezing sorrow. 

“Girl—“

Another flood shot through her, one that was molten and dark, and suddenly she was the one getting in his masked face, raging through her tears. 

“And the _RULES!_ No leaving these rooms? FINE! But give me something to do besides sit on my arse with the datapad all day!” She moved towards and gestured sharply to the shelves. “Am I just another pretty but unused thing to add to your collection? Should I make room for myself on a shelf?” She turned back to face him, pleading, “I need a purpose! I need tasks! I want to be a good servant to you, but I don’t even know how, and you haven’t given me a way to show you!”

Her face became a snarl, “Even being a _bed slave_ would be better than this, because then at least I’d have a _use_ ,” and then she recoiled from her own words. She felt her hand come up to press at her mouth, as if that was enough to stop the words that had already come out. This was a door she had never wanted to open. Not even a little bit. Not even a crack.

Lord Ren closed the distance between them again like a stalking wraith, stopping close enough to her trembling, gasping form that the ends of his robes brushed against her feet.

“A bed slave?” He repeated darkly, his robotic voice crackling. “Do you even know _how?”_

She pressed her lips together, eyes directed to his broad chest, face heating up from a different kind of embarrassment now. Her lack of answer and swirling emotions were probably answer enough, and she mentally kicked herself for saying such a thing. For even bringing it up as a possibility.

His black gloved hand found her throat, pushing up beneath her jaw so that she had nowhere else to look but up at his terrifying mask. Rey grabbed his wrist weakly, but his burning hold wasn’t constricting—it felt more like a show of dominance. A message. 

“Listen, and listen well, Girl,” Lord Ren said slowly, intently. “I _am_ a monster,” his grip tightened a fraction. “Eventually you’ll hear that I’ve done things—terrible, cruel things. That I’ve murdered unarmed men, and women. That I’ve tortured enemies until they begged for death. That I’ve looked the other way in the face of unimaginable horror when I could have rendered aid.” Rey felt lightheaded from more than just her outburst. She trembled in renewed fear, her heart thundered in her chest, her throat clicking audibly as she swallowed past the pressure around it. 

“But,” he continued, his hold loosening and fingers sliding from her neck, leaving a tingling trail, “I am not _that_ kind of monster. That is not the kind of service I expect from you. Do not even entertain the thought, that offering yourself to me in that way will ingratiate you to my better side. I’ve cast out those base needs.”

“I—“ Rey pressed her trembling lips together, hesitating, still reeling slightly from the feel of his warm glove on her skin. She felt flushed. She felt lightheaded. It was a dizzying combination.

“By all means,” he droned sarcastically, “speak. We’ve had enough miscommunications.”

She looked up at his visor, her voice so frail. “I don’t want to be a bed slave.”

He nodded. “Then we are in agreement on the matter.”

She nodded and sniffled, wiping her face again. “But,” her head lowered, the bravado draining from her posture as she stood. “I still don’t know what you want me to do. I want…I _need_ a purpose. I can’t stay in here, all day, everyday, doing nothing. _Please._ Let me serve you somehow.” 

Lord Ren was quietly contemplative. Somehow Rey knew that his anger was receding, like a tide. And, in the same way, the torrent of emotions that had raged through herself was trickling down to nothing. Now she was just back to being exhausted, down to her bones. Down to her soul. 

His voice spoke up, softly, as if he was afraid to startle her. “…You haven’t eaten since Jakku?”

She shook her head, croaking out, “No, sir.” Then amended herself, “Well, there was half a bread roll…”

Rey wanted to sleep. She wanted to curl up around her empty stomach and just sleep. Forever.

“Go and sit at the table.” He told her quietly, and then moved towards the command screen by the door. 

Rey sniffled, wiping her face. “What are you going to do with me?” Was she to sit and wait until someone else came to collect her and have her destroyed? It was the least she deserved for speaking to her master in such a way, but she didn’t want to die.

“Please don’t kill me, sir,” she whimpered. “I can be useful."

He stood still for a moment, and then turned to speak over his shoulder. “I’m not going to kill you, Girl. I’m going to make sure you are fed. And then we are going to _talk.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *EMERGES FROM THE GROUND LIKE AN AWAKENING BEAST, SCREECHING LIKE A PTERODACTYL*  
> yyyyYYEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
> 
> YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA
> 
> NO FUCKING IDEA
> 
> HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING TO POST THIS CHAPTER!!!
> 
> I WROTE THIS CHAPTER BEFORE I WROTE CHAPTER 8
> 
> ITS BEEN ELEVEN CHAPTERS SINCE I WROTE THIS AND PLANNED FOR THIS TO HAPPEN  
> BLAARLJDHFKDFJDSLJFDLS
> 
> Omg this chapter!  
> AHHHHH  
> This chapter watered my crops  
> it cleared my skin  
> it added three years to my lifespan
> 
> Every time I felt stumped or wasn't sure of myself, I would read this chapter and be SO MOTIVATED because I just NEEDED Y'ALL TO AT LEAST READ UP TO THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE THE CATHARSIS IS JUST SO *SCREAMS*
> 
> I mean, things are not fixed by any means between these two knuckleheads and I have so much more planned for this story, but holy shit. UGH.
> 
> Please let me know if this chapter hit the bullseye with y'all the way I intended it to haha ~plz validate meee~ 
> 
> Also, this is basically the end of part 1. Next chapter is a sort of transition chapter between part 1 and part 2. 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: Kylo's POV of The Corridor and Speak
> 
> Posting date: Saturday 3/28 at 8pm Japan Time
> 
> [EDIT May 1, 2020: I drew another thing! :D ]


	20. To Witness a Dying Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see The Corridor and Speak through Kylo's POV...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys I was absolutely BLOWN AWAY by everyone's response to Speak!! I cried so much jAj It was a really big chapter for me because it essentially closed out the first arc, and I've never finished an arc before in my entire life because I usually just write random scenes and never post anything jAj jAj jAj So the fact that I've come so far with this fic is a HUGE fucking achievement for me. I cherish every comment you guys posted <3<3<3

* * *

Kylo stomped into his bedroom, looking around, double checking just to be sure, just to confirm. 

But there was no mistake: Girl was gone. 

She wasn’t in the ‘fresher, nor curled up on her pitiful excuse for a bed behind the couch.

Where could she be? Why did she leave? _How_ did she leave? The door was locked on both sides, only openable by droid or by triggering it with the Force. She did not have enough control to use her powers in such a way, and according to the computer log it hadn’t been accessed by a droid. 

In the moment Kylo decided it didn’t matter. He’d interrogate her about it later, but first he needed to find her. 

And once he did….

Well, she’d learn through pain and punishment that he was not one to be disobeyed. He didn’t care what fragile state she was in, she was going to _learn_ and she was going to _remember._

His saber was in his hand again, throwing angry sparks, and it took everything in him not to bring the weapon down on the couch. His arms trembled as he gripped the hilt in two hands, so hard that it hurt. 

_Focus. Find the girl. Get angry later._

Maybe he could get Cseenan to help, since the Knight was an accomplished hunter and he’d be able to find just about anyone—

Kylo felt his heart seize in his chest. Dread flooded in to take the place of oxygen in his veins. He shut off his saber, clipped it to his side, and brought his communicator up.  
  
“Cseenan, report.”

Nothing. No answer. 

“Cseenan Ren, _report._ ”

Maybe it was a problem with his communicator. He switched channels with a flick of his thumb.

“Tomaxx Ren, report.”

Immediately the comm beeped. _“I’m still in the Situation room. I’m done looking over the files you gave me and have started researching Takodana.”_  
  
Kylo stood still, mind racing. 

_“Do you need anything, Master?”_

Kylo realized there was no time to meet with Tomaxx and come up with a plan. If Cseenan took Girl, she might already be dead. How much of her would be left? He’s seen how much Cseenan can eat. Barabels have two stomachs for a reason. 

_“Master?”_

Tomaxx’s voice brought Kylo back to task. He lifted the comm again. “If you see Cseenan Ren, tell him to report to me immediately.”

_“Yes, Master.”_

Kylo stormed out of his quarters, about to turn back down towards the lift when movement in the corner of his eye on the opposite end of the corridor brought him about-face. Something or someone just went around the corner. 

“Girl!” He barked, his steps quick as he made to follow. If she was around the corner it wouldn’t matter how fast she ran, he would freeze her. And she would wish that he was Cseenan because there would be _no mercy._

He got to the T crossing and—the corridor was empty. 

Kylo took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. The Force wouldn’t be able to show him where she was on a map, but at least he’d know if he was close. And if she was alive. 

He extended his senses, and almost immediately made contact with Cseenan’s gritty Force presence as well as—

_Girl._

The terror radiating from her was staggering. But she was alive—a tiny spark in the darkness. Cseenan had found her, though, which meant Kylo needed to run. 

There was another flicker of movement to his left. He wasn’t sure what it was that kept getting his attention but he wasn’t going to wait around to investigate. It was a sign, so he turned towards it and sprinted, passing the archives room, nearing the next crossing—

_‘NO DON’T LEAVE ME’_

The cry out in the Force nearly knocked him over, made him wince with the strength of it in his head. Did he pass by her somehow? No, she was ahead, he could feel it. He resumed his steps, stopping at the entrance to the next corridor, and there he saw Cseenan lunging, and then he saw Girl, cowering in the corner by the storm door controls, directly in the Barabel’s path. 

And Kylo felt something spike through him, making him act without thought, bringing his arm up, directing the Force to wrap around Cseenan and _pull._

The Knight was hauled backwards, away from Girl and towards Kylo. He scrambled to a crouch, snarling furiously, spittle flying from his snapping jaws, eyes pitch-black and frenzied. He was deep in the bloodlust now. If Tomaxx had been there, the Chiss might have been able to calm him down by talking logically to him, but Kylo was not as skilled at it. He would have to rely on his authority to break through to Cseenan’s higher mind. 

“ENOUGH,” he bellowed, igniting his saber. The Knight growled, a sub-tonal sound in his throat. The air was tense, almost suffocating. Kylo breathed steadily, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Cseenan Ren,” He commanded sternly, “go back to the Situation room and assist Tomaxx.”

The Barabel hissed insubordinately, tail twitching, claws retracting and pushing out again. 

“ _Now_ , Cseenan Ren. _Go now._ ”

The Knight looked back at Girl, breathing heavily, saliva dripping from his teeth to the floor. He was going to lunge again. Kylo could feel it in the air. 

Suddenly another scene, similar to this one but with different players in the position of bloodthirsty killer and weakened victim, flashed in his mind. 

_“What are you doing? STOP.”_

_“Just culling the herd, Princey Boy.”_  
  
Shoving the memory down, Kylo took a tense step forward, both hands gripped hard on his saber now, trying to push as much authority and alpha anger and _threat_ into his voice as possible as he roared with guttural, desperate intent. He did not want to have to strike Cseenan—his Knight and _brother_ —down but he _would_ , because 

“Cseenan, the girl is **_MINE_**.”

At the sound of his fury the Barabel looked back at his Master, the bristling of his scales stilling, his stance changing from aggressive challenger to contrite subordinate in the span of a moment. And in that moment Cseenan remembered, Cseenan realized who he was challenging, because Kylo could see the apprehension, the knowledge of _I fucked up_ in the curve of the Knight’s shoulders and the sudden lack of predator sheen to his eyes. 

“Master’s,” he rasped, head bowing in submission. “Master’s slave.”

The air was still thick with tension as Kylo gruffly ordered his Knight back again. “Go to Tomaxx. Stay with him until I relieve you. _Now_.”

“Yes, Master,” Cseenan grumbled, dark eyes flickering once more at Girl, one last defiance, before he turned and moved past Kylo. 

Kylo watched him go, not looking away until he saw Cseenan get on the lift, saw the door shut, and the control light indicate that it was in motion. Only then did he also flick the igniter switch on his saber, the red blade extinguishing with a hissing hum. 

He looked over to Girl, who was stood shaking in the corner, eyes wide in her gaunt face, arms tucked against her chest as if that would have protected her from an attack from a Barabel. As if it would protect her from him. 

As the adrenaline slurry in his veins began to drain away, leaving him with minor shakes that he tried to quell by making fists at his sides, Kylo realized what emotion he was coming down from. And it made him very, _very_ angry. 

How dare this slave girl put him into a position where he almost had to fight against one of his apprentices, one of his sworn Knights? And how dare Cseenan put him into that position as well? The Knight would get his comeuppance later, but Girl’s blatant disobedience, her act of _disrespect_ , would be settled _now_. 

Kylo stomped forward and grabbed her by the arm, the limb so thin his fingers could wrap around it completely. He practically carried her down the corridors and back to his quarters, uncaring that she was struggling to keep up with his gait. 

His teeth were grinding from the tension in his jaw, his eyes were seething red. He shoved her into the rooms, and when she tripped and fell he felt a flicker of satisfaction before it was extinguished by guilt, and then that was flooded by anger again. 

The questions from before swirled in his mind like snapping raptors, shrieking and tearing at his thoughts. He paced furiously, flexing the muscles of his arms, wanting to hit something, to see damage and debris, but he would _not_ lose control, not this time. 

So instead, he broke Girl with his words. 

He slashed at her with accusations. He punched her with his sneer. He ripped open her heart with his rage. 

Didn’t she know that it was because of _him_ that she wasn’t dead floating in Jakku space? Did she realize that by defying him, she was only making it more difficult for him to keep her? She had _no idea_ what Snoke was capable of. And here Kylo was, trying to provide a better life for her than what she had on Jakku, and she was being so _unappreciative_.

Why didn’t she eat? Why did she humiliate him this way? How _**dare**_ she? 

“It makes m-me sick,” She whimpered.

_“WHAT DOES?”_ He thundered, so sick and tired of hearing her whimpering and crying. “My rooms? The datapad I gave you? Me? Tell me, _princess_ , what exactly makes you _sick_.”

He fully expected to see her collapse in a heap of pathetic rags to the floor, where he intended to force her to tell him why she had refused the food he’d requested for her, why she left the rooms, and _what the fuck is wrong with you_ , when she did the exact opposite and just, _exploded._

Like a dying sun.

Like it was a last act of death—a brilliant detonation of everything that had apparently been building up inside of her for the past week. 

She looked up, straight into his visor, her eyes aflame, and _screamed_ ,

“The FOOD, you _thick-headed_ **MONSTER!** ”  
  
Kylo froze, in shock, yes, but also because _this was it._ This was the girl he had seen at the auction, _this_ was the fiery slave who had beaten down three men by herself, with nothing but an electrostick and her own flaming will. 

_This_ was the girl with the alluring Force powers who he wanted to teach. 

But her words were now the weapons. And strike him through she did, without finesse, but also without mercy. The food made her sick? She thought he _poisoned_ it? She was afraid that he’d punish her for not being able to keep the food down? 

Kylo’s mind reeled at her words. Was he such a brute? Granted, she did not know him and he hadn’t made a very clear impression since she’d come aboard. But it was a ridiculous fear. Who would punish someone over something so trivial? Even slaves needed to eat. 

He thought she was done with her tirade after she hid behind her hands, her wheezing sobs loud in the bright room. Kylo tried to steady himself, about to bite back with _‘Girl, are you telling me you haven’t eaten in five days because you thought I was poisoning you? Are you stupid?’_ when the second, more dazzling explosion happened. 

She got _in his face_. She _raged_ at him, almost making him take a step back in surprise. _Almost_. But he stood his ground and watched with part surprise and part growing indignation as she tore him asunder. 

Tomaxx had said that slaves thrived on work, that Girl probably needed things to do. Kylo had been wrong to refute him apparently.

But her fury was making her careless, and in her carelessness she made a fatal mistake, reigniting his temper. 

“Even being a _bed slave_ would be better than this, because then at least I’d have a _use._ ”

And she knew that it was the wrong thing to say by the way she took in a shuddering breath, her face going from scorn to horror in the span of a heartbeat, her hand covering her mouth. 

Is that why she’d tried to seduce him the other day? To feel _useful?_

A weaker man would have used her words as permission, would have let the admission shred what little flimsy excuses of discipline he had, and taken her to bed just to prove to her his complete dominion over her, body and all.

But Kylo was not a weaker man. He was disciplined, and strong in his faith to the Dark Side and to his training. He prided himself on that. It was insulting that even this slave girl, who he thought would be the _last person_ on the ship to expect such behavior of him, would much less _tell him she preferred it_. He had been avoiding the rooms to avoid this situation precisely, and it felt like a direct insult that she would even bring it up. Did she even know what being a bed slave _meant?_

Her embarrassed silence told him she did not. 

He felt compelled to settle this matter once and for all. He was trained in death and destruction, worked with shadows and submerged himself daily in feelings of hate and anger. He was not a good man. He never has been, it was never in the story that the galaxy wrote for his life. _But._

He grabbed Girl’s throat, not with the Force but with his hand, wanting to really feel her life in his grasp, wanting her to feel the strength of his words and truly understand them. She did not struggle, her hands grasping weakly at his wrist, almost as if in acceptance, and Kylo pushed away the small thrill that raced down his spine from it.

“Listen, and listen well, Girl,” he warned lowly, willing her to hear him and understand, if not with the Force than with the strength of his darkly serious intent. 

“I _am_ a monster,” he admitted, tightening his grip a fraction. It was a truth he had accepted about himself long ago. There was no point in trying to disprove it anymore.

“Eventually you’ll hear that I’ve done things—terrible, cruel things. That I’ve murdered unarmed men, and women. That I’ve tortured enemies until they begged for death. That I’ve looked the other way in the face of unimaginable horror when I could have rendered aid.” He relished in the tremor his words caused her, in the feel of her throat moving as she swallowed. 

It was all true, in spirit. There were some atrocities he had never committed but accepted the blame for, things others far more cruel than him had done in his stead. The rumors and myths surrounding him gave him more power over those who believed them though, so he never refuted them.

“But,” he continued, feeling warm all of a sudden, deciding to loosen his hold and remove his hand with parting gentleness—a small apology with an earnest promise: “I am not _that_ kind of monster. That is not the kind of service I expect from you. Do not even entertain the thought, that offering yourself to me in that way will ingratiate you to my better side. I’ve cast out those base needs.”

He was pious. He was disciplined. He would _not_ be tempted. 

Girl seemed to sway on her feet after his arm dropped, her eyes dazed for a moment as she started to speak and stopped, pressing her chapped lips together. 

“By all means,” he droned sarcastically while rolling his eyes. “Speak. We’ve had enough miscommunications.”

She looked up at him, searching for a gaze she couldn’t see, and if he had his way, would never see. 

“I don’t want to be a bed slave,” she uttered in a fragile voice.

He nodded decidedly. “Then we are in agreement on the matter.” _Let that be the end of it,_ he silently hoped.

She nodded and sniffled, wiping her face quickly of the tears that shined on her flushed cheekbones. 

“But,” her head lowered, the bravado draining from her posture as she stood. “I still don’t know what you want me to do. I want…I _need_ a purpose. I can’t stay in here, all day, everyday, doing nothing. _Please_ ,” she begged brokenly, “Let me serve you somehow.” 

Kylo quietly pondered her, realizing that his decisions up til now had done more harm than good for the girl. That she had to _beg_ him for work, for purpose, was a failure on his part as her new master. He needed to be smarter about this. He needed to be more careful.

He also took time to note the changes in her physical condition that he hadn’t noticed before. Her cheeks were more hollow than they’d been her first day, her eyes sunken into pronounced sockets. Her skin was somehow both tanned and pale, and from the wide neckline he could see her collarbones prominently. And she still hadn’t acclimated to the temperatures seeing as how her lips were purple, her frame shivering in the cold. His quick scan came up with no good things. She was gaunt, like someone on their deathbed. 

He felt the biting tells of guilt on the edges of his mind. He was a monster, yes, but starving his own servants was not his brand of cruelty. She had already come from having so little. It must have been torturous, being offered opulent meals only to refuse them out of fear.

Kylo spoke, quietly astounded and troubled in equal measures. 

“…You haven’t eaten since Jakku?”

She shook her head, croaking out, “No, sir.” Then mumbled, “Well, there was half a bread roll…”

Only half a bread roll? _In five days?_ ( _Or more_ , he thought, realizing she could’ve already been going without food on Jakku for who knows how long.)  
  
How was she standing?

How did she have any energy at all? Especially facing down Cseenan, and especially exploding at him. She looked like she was about to fall over though. She was swaying as she breathed, her drooping eyes puffy and red from crying.

“Go and sit at the table.” He told her quietly, and then moved towards the command screen by the door to order her a bowl of nutrimeal—a bland, nutrient-heavy porridge that was a staple in the stormtrooper diet. 

“What are you going to do with me?” She sniffled. Her voice turned pleading again. “Please don’t kill me, sir,” she whimpered. “I can be useful."

Kylo stilled, keeping himself from clenching his fist in case she interpreted it as anger directed at her instead of on her behalf. _Kill her?_ By the way things had gone he apparently hadn’t even given her a chance to prove herself. Why would he kill her for his own mistakes?

He turned a degree to see her trembling, holding herself. 

“I’m not going to kill you, Girl,” he reassured her. And then with more conviction, “I’m going to make sure you are fed. And then we are going to _talk_.”

_And perhaps this mess will finally clear up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we see Kylo's side of things :D  
> Like I said last chapter, this chapter is a sort of transition between parts 1 and 2. We've got some setting up to do ;) 
> 
> Next chapter: Rey and Kylo finally have a talk....
> 
> Posting date: Tuesday 3/31 8PM Japan time
> 
> **  
> Also, I was wondering if anyone would be interested in answering some discussion questions? I'm a teacher and I love literary analysis, and I think it'd be fun to hear what you guys think about certain things that I've written that maybe you didn't catch or give much thought to. I love adding depth and hidden themes to my writing, and it'd be cool to maybe talk about it :D  
> You don't have to answer any of the questions if you don't want to! Just a normal comment is fine. But if you're bored at home because of quarantine, it could be an interesting way to pass time XD 
> 
> 1.) In chapters 13 and 16 Rey has some bad dreams. What do you think the underlying theme is? 
> 
> 2.) In chapter 13, there was someone outside the door. Do you think it was just a 'passing officer' as Kylo said, or do you think it was someone else? 
> 
> 3.) Who do you think the 'dream-boy/holo-boy' is? 
> 
> 4.) In this chapter, Kylo is angry about an emotion he had that gave him the shakes. What do you think that emotion could be?
> 
> I look forward to any possible answers :D I love discussing these things with my beta reader but it would be cool to talk to more people about it too~  
> I might not ask questions every chapter, but if I feel like something could be fun to discuss, I'll make sure to ask you guys! :D


	21. Flickering Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo have a talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin Part 2...

Rey somehow made it to the table before collapsing into a chair. She was sure if she’d stood for a minute longer she would have fainted. Even now, sitting down, there were tiny spots dancing in her vision. She laid her head down on the cold table, letting the chill seep into her forehead, and breathed. 

Lord Ren was unseen for a moment while he dealt with the command screen. Rey heard a small beep and then a tinny version of Lord Tomaxx’s voice saying something about Lord Cseenan. Lord Ren tersely replied, and then his footsteps brought him into the bedroom, around the table, towards the ‘fresher. 

Was it rude for Rey to be laying her head on his table like this? Probably. Should she be asking him if she could help him do whatever it was he was doing now? Probably. But she just didn’t even have the energy to care. At this point she welcomed any punishment thrown her way. She deserved it.

His footsteps came back. “Girl.”

She didn’t lift her head, just rotated it on the table to look up at him. “Yessir,” she whispered hoarsely.

In his hand was a needle gun. 

Rey whined, immediately shrinking away, her hand coming up to cover the vertebrae of her nape, the other arm tucked protectively against her chest. What was it now? More vaccinations to the back of her neck? Truth serum? A blood-eating poison? She couldn't take it. She wouldn’t. Not if it was going to make her sick again. 

“Shh shh shh,” Lord Ren hushed, the sound like soft static from his mask while he loaded a small vial into the gun. “Calm down. This is a nutrition supplement. I gave you one after you passed out from freezing me your first day here. It’ll help you feel better, along with the food.”

She stared at the needle, remembering the pressure, remembering the pain and the feeling of her head so stuffed. She didn’t want to feel that again. She didn’t want this. _Please, please no_. Her heart pounded painfully. There were black spots in her vision again.

But…she wanted to please him. She wanted to show that she could be good. That she could obey. Before with the droid, it had been the idea of Lord Ren being there that had motivated her to get through the injections. Well, he was _here_ now. He could see her be obedient. He could see her be strong. 

Rey tried to slow her breathing, tried to will the black spots from her vision. She had told him she wanted to serve him, that she wanted a chance to show him she could be a good servant. This was a chance. This was a bolt.

_Just do it, just get it over with._

“Where?” She whispered.

“In your arm.” He waited a beat, and when she didn't immediately move he made an impatient beckoning gesture with his other hand. “Come on.”

She could do this. She could obey. 

“Yessir,” she said tremulously, and slowly slid closer, body tense, releasing her tucked arm to him.

Lord Ren laid it flat and pulled up the long sleeve to expose the vein at the joint. There were prickling goosebumps where he touched her, even though his gloves were warm on her frigid skin. How can someone with such a cold presence be so warm?

“Thank you, sir,” she trembled, not wanting him to think she was ungrateful for his aid. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said lowly, lining the gun up and then pressing the trigger. The pinch of pain was minimal, but Rey teared up from the feeling of cold that crept up her arm from the medicine in her veins. She was _so tired_ of feeling cold. 

“Sorry,” she croaked. 

Lord Ren straightened. “Stop apologizing.”

Rey sighed, closing her eyes and laying her head down again, uncaring of the tears that dropped to the table. It felt like he was asking the impossible of her.

Lord Ren smoothed her sleeve back down and then his footsteps took him away. The front door beeped, and a droid entered. Rey wondered idly if it was the one she’d dented. She was beginning to develop a fondness for it, a kind of solidarity—they were after all two damaged servants out of place in a perfect and pristine world. 

Rey opened her eyes when something was placed on the table. 

“Sit up.”

She somehow managed to push her torso upright with her arms, although the room spun for a moment and she had to breathe deeply to get any air in. 

There was a bowl in front of her, steaming with some white porridge stuff. The smell made her both ravenous and nauseated.

“Eat.”

Rey felt her lip tremble. Tears warped her vision.

“What?” He asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

“What if…it makes me sick?” Vomiting in front of Lord Ren would be the ultimate shame.

“Then I’ll find something else for you.” 

After a moment he sat in the opposite chair. 

“Eat,” he insisted, more softly. “Small bites, however slowly you need to go. Even if it takes you the rest of the day, I want you to finish that bowl. Can you do that?”

Rey swallowed the lump in her throat, glancing up at his mask as she nodded and wiped her face. She could do that. She could try, at least, for her master.   
  
She took the spoon and lifted a small amount to her lips. She was too afraid to let anything more than just a drop touch her tongue, and then she let it settle in her mouth for a minute before swallowing it. 

“Very good,” he murmured. Rey felt the muscles around her heart relax just a little bit, where they had been painfully tight before. 

Yes, she could definitely do this. 

They sat in silence for several minutes as Rey slowly ate about two more spoonfuls this way, pausing between each swallow to check to make sure her stomach wasn’t rejecting any of it. Lord Ren was watching her, and that made her nervous and self-conscious, but she tried to just focus on the bowl, the spoon, and the feeling of the warm food going into her to distract from his silent attention.

When she had started on the third spoonful, he spoke up, still using a quiet tone. 

“I want to talk about some of the things you said. There was quite a lot, but one thing I need to know: why didn’t you tell me about the food earlier?”

Rey lowered the spoon into the bowl, watched the porridge move as she slowly stirred it. Suddenly the words wouldn’t come out. She opened her mouth and closed it again, heart pounding painfully in an off-rhythm staccato that had her breathing carefully against a sudden small wave of dizziness.

“Tell me,” he ordered, adding, so softly spoken it barely registered through his voice modulator, “Please.”

Rey looked up and then down again quickly. She took a small breath, her head clearing.

“You weren’t here,” she mumbled, speaking slowly and taking breaths often. It was still difficult to breathe, even though she was sitting down. “And when you were, I was.… I kept making you angry. I…don’t know what I did, and…I didn’t want to be more of a burden.” 

She couldn’t hear it but she could see his chest expand with a deep inhale, and then contract as he let the breath out slowly. 

“You thought I poisoned the food.”

She nodded. 

“Why?”

Rey held the bowl between her hands, relishing in the warmth it gave off. _Like the sun_. 

“I’ve been tricked before.” More than once. And she’d almost died one of the times.

He was silent for a moment. 

“And you think I would do that?” 

She gave a noncommittal shrug, uncomfortable and suddenly feeling foolish in the face of his incredulity.

He indicated to the bowl. “And now?”

She hesitated, searched the bowl for a moment, and then looked up somberly.

“Are you _that_ kind of monster?”

Lord Ren looked back at her from behind his visor. Rey wished she could see his eyes. She wished she could read him better. Maybe things would have turned out a little differently then.

He shook his head, “No, I’m not that kind either.”

She lifted the spoon for another small taste. “Then I guess it was just me all along.”

Lord Ren sighed again. “…It was partly my failing. I should have realized our meals were richer than what your body was used to. I should have started you off on this from the beginning, and then added variation. But you should have said something; we could have avoided this.”  
  
“Asking for special food is asking for a whipping, or worse,” Rey uttered shakily, thinking back to those early days of conditioning. Those hard trials and trainings from Vins that even Nybian had difficulty undoing. 

“This Slave—“ she shook her head, wincing, “I’m sorr— I d-didn’t—“ She pressed her trembling lips together, willing herself not to cry anymore. Why was she so emotional? She was usually more stalwart than this. It was shameful.

Lord Ren stayed silent, pondering something across the table as Rey managed to find some semblance of control and then continue nibbling at the porridge.

“I’ll make you a promise, Girl.” He said finally, laying his hands on the table as he leaned forward slightly. “Anything you say when we are seated at this table is free from risk of punishment. I need to know you will be honest with me from now on, even if it’s something you think might anger me.”

Rey frowned. “When we’re at this table?”

“Yes.”

Rey sniffled, remembering the incredibly, _horribly_ disrespectful name she’d called him during her tantrum in the other room. “What about what I said out there?”

Lord Ren glanced to the side at the adjacent room doorway, then back at Rey. “We’ll pretend that happened here.”

Rey nodded, but didn’t trust his promise. He promised he wouldn’t hurt her, and he did. Why should she believe him now?

But she had questions. So many questions she wanted to ask him. Did questions count? There was one that she needed to know the answer to. It was one that had been bothering her for the past several days.

“Sir, can I ask—“ Rey clamped her mouth shut. There she went, letting her mouth run away from her again. Her control was slipping so much today. She tried to cover up her mistake by putting a little more porridge into her mouth.

“What?” He asked, mask tilting. “Go on, what do want to ask?”

Rey swallowed her tiny mouthful, suddenly uncertain. The question felt selfish and childish. She shouldn’t care; she had no right to care. But…

“Why…”

“Why what?” He goaded softly after a beat.

Rey kept her eyes on the porridge. “Why did you ignore me?”

Lord Ren shifted in his seat, head turning away briefly. “I had things to do.”

“You are lying to me,” she whispered, eyes daring to look up at his visor, Knowing in her heart that he was not being truthful. Some distant part of her was aghast at her accusatory words, but another part took some satisfaction in exposing him as a hypocrite. 

He sat silently, the only evidence of his feeling called out was the fidgeting of his hand, the leather glove creaking as he flexed and gripped it into a fist. Would he hit her for her audacity? Rey was sure if he did that she wouldn’t survive it. Not with how wrong her body felt. Not with how weak she was. 

He looked to the side again, though, surprising her with his honesty. “Everyone thought I was using you as a bed slave. It…” he took a deep breath, his voice hardening, “I didn’t want their gossip to receive any validation. So I made the decision to be as away from here for as long as I could. For both my reputation, and yours.”

“My reputation?” Rey whispered again, confused. She was a slave. Her image mattered not.

“Yes,” he said simply, looking back at her. “They will treat you with less derision if they know you are not a bed slave. They do not think well of such things here. This is a place of order and discipline.”

Order and discipline. She could work with that. She _hoped_ for it. Knowing the rules and having a routine sounded like a dream to her at this point after spending days doing nothing. After spending days being useless. 

Rey nodded, pondering over her bowl. She was somewhat surprised by his honest answer, somewhat awed. Lord Ren truly was a pious man if he’d gone so far to prove that she wasn’t being used for pleasure. It was another small solace to add to her fragile heart after the adamancy he’d shown in the other room—although she wished he’d told her his plan so she wasn't left alone, wondering what she'd done wrong for so long. 

‘ _I am not_ that _kind of monster_ ,’ he’d said, and even though he’d said it with his hand around her throat, his message rang true. Rey didn’t need to worry about rape from him. The relief almost made her dizzy.

They lapsed into silence after that. Not necessarily comfortable silence, but the tension wasn’t as bad as it had been, so Rey took that to be a step in the right direction. 

_Bolt by bolt._

Nybian was right all along. Maybe things would get better now.

_Kriff_ , she was going to start crying again. Her head was heavy from the tears she’d already wept, but it seemed like there was no end to them. She needed a distraction. 

She paused her spoon, looking up. “Do they know about my powers, Sir?”

Lord Ren was silent for a beat, as if processing her question. Rey tensed for a moment, wondering if she’d gone too far already, if she was only allowed one question, or maybe she was supposed to _ask_ if she could ask him a question like last time or—

“No.” He answered. “And I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Rey blinked, relieved he wasn’t angry at her, and then frowned. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s shameful for a Force-sensitive to be a slave,” he said matter-of-factly, and Rey’s heart fell as her head lowered. 

“Oh.” _Shameful. Useless. Stupi—_

“You have so much power,” he murmured, interrupting her thoughts and bringing her head up slightly. “And you don’t even know it. You could have _ruled_ over Jakku.”

“I don’t want to rule over anything,” she whispered back, shaking her head minutely. It was beginning to pound again. Her chest was aching, too. _Kriff,_ she forgot to drink water. 

“What do you want then?” He asked it so simply, as if it was an easy question for a slave to answer. 

She looked down at the bowl, giving the only answer she knew. “I just want to serve.” 

* * *

  
~~~~~~~~~~~OOO***OOO~~~~~~~~~~~

* * *

  
Kylo observed Girl quietly.

_“I just want to serve,”_ she’d said. It wasn’t quite the truth but it wasn’t a lie either. Girl just didn’t know what she wanted, and she was repeating whatever training she’d been force-fed her whole life. Perhaps he’d find out someday, if she grew into her strength. 

For now he would just have to take her wants at face value, and try to meet them as best he could. She wanted to serve him? Fine. He would figure out a way.

He let her eat a few more spoonfuls, her pace slowing somewhat, before asking her the question he’d been pondering before.   
  
“How did you get out of the rooms?”   
  
He had his hypotheses, mainly having to do with Cseenan tripping the door and somehow manipulating her out, but he wasn’t sure.

“I thought it was a dream,” she mumbled, her brow creasing. She left her spoon in the bowl and braced her hands on the table, blinking slowly. 

He frowned, his senses prickling with unease.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Was she feeling sick again? _Already?_ She’d barely eaten anything. 

Girl took a few short breaths in, her words airy and weak.

“I’m…I think I’m just…” she stood up shakily, a confused look on her face, eyelids drooping. “I think I’ll go lay…down—“ Her knees buckled and Kylo was immediately up out of his seat, catching her as she fell.

Her arms came up, her hands grasping weakly at his overcoat. She hugged him closer, and he froze.

“Y’so warm..” He heard her mumble, nuzzling into his chest, before the tension left her body and she sagged, arms dropping, deadweight against him. 

“Girl,” he gave her a small shake, then lowered her to the ground as gently as he could, kneeling beside her. He shook her shoulder, and then hooked his hand beneath her jaw to shake her head.

_“Girl.”_

No reaction. He pulled off his glove to check her pulse, flinching back at the small jolt he felt when he touched her skin. _Kriffing electromagnetism,_ he grumbled, shaking his hand out and reaching back to check again. 

_“Shit.”_

Her pulse was so weak he could barely feel it. And she was hardly breathing. This was not the same as her collapse from Force-holding him before.

As loathe as he was to involve others in this, he knew that he was only qualified for battle triage and this was not something he’d ever dealt with before. She needed a medic, _immediately._

Shoving his glove back on, Kylo went to the control screen and called for an emergency medical unit to be dispatched to his quarters. They replied straight away, telling him it would take them two minutes to get there.

It felt like an hour as he continued to try and revive Girl by shaking her, calling her name, even slapping her (just once), but nothing worked. Her lips were turning a darker shade of purple, and he knew it wasn’t from the cold this time.

His door beeped and a small team entered. The medical officers seemed apprehensive but immediately hurried over when they saw the scene, leaving the medidroid gurney in the adjacent room.

“What happened?” The lead medic asked, crisp and professional, already scanning her with his diagnostic wand while the other medic used a pen light to check her eyes and mouth.

“She collapsed,” Kylo explained, standing out of the way. “She hasn’t eaten in five days.”

The medics gave him a look, the younger one repeating with bewilderment, “She hasn’t eaten in five days?”

“That’s what I said," Kylo tensely replied.

The medic blinked, switching back into professional detachment.   
  
“Does she have any preexisting conditions?”

“No.” And then he realized he hadn’t looked at the medidroid’s assessment of her yet and added a low, “I don’t know.”

“Does she have a history of fainting episodes like this?” 

He thought back to when she’d fainted after Force-holding his body. “Yes, but—“ this was different. He could feel it. Something was very wrong. 

He shook his head. “This isn’t the same. This time she’s—“

Her light was flickering, lower and lower. He could sense it. 

She was dying.

The medics seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time as Kylo when their devices began beeping alarms. 

The medical officer began unpacking something from the satchel at his hip. 

“Her DPB is too low. She’s going into cardiac arrest, we need to get her to the medbay.” He strapped the device—an oxygen mask—to Girl’s face as the medidroid floated over with the gurney. The two medics picked her up easily and laid her on the pad, rushing out to the corridor while alerting the other medics through their communicator what was coming.

Kylo matched pace with them, watching as the second medical officer began instructing the droid to start chest compressions. As the team maneuvered into the lift the lead officer hit the door switch with an apologetic-yet-authoritative look at Kylo, who was stood in the corridor still. The lift door closed, leaving him.

Kylo understood why, understood that they needed the room, that he would just get in the way. But it still angered him. She was _his._

_His_ responsibility. _His_ burden to bare. 

He knew he should head to the express lift. He knew he should be there while they worked on her, as her master and as the one responsible for her current condition. 

But he felt paralyzed all of a sudden. He’d neglected her for four days and she was dying. He naively thought a bowl of nutrimeal and a supplement injection would be enough to fix her without anyone finding out about his failure. But now, _this._

If she died it would be on his hands. Just one more death among many, but this one felt like it would be more tragic than all the rest. 

Girl’s light flickered lower, almost gone. 

Kylo turned on his heel and ran. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😁 😁 😁 😁 😁 😁   
> Woo!! Getting off to a good start, huh? 😂 (I'm sorry~<3)
> 
> So not gonna lie, I've had a couple of the worst days of 2020 these past two days, and have been looking forward to posting this chapter so I could at least get some positive interaction from people.   
> No serious discussion questions, although I am curious if you guys found anything interesting you feel like mentioning :)   
> As always, I love hearing from y'all! Anything and everything :D 
> 
> Next chapter: Some revelations in the medbay...
> 
> Posting date: Saturday, April 4th, 8pm Japan time


	22. The Whiplash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey makes a choice, and the scales fall from Kylo's eyes a bit more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing comments last chapter!!!! 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ It helped me get out of the depressive episode I'd fallen into 🙌  
> I really love you guys 😭❤️😭❤️

* * *

Rey felt herself drifting in and out of the strangest dream. 

She felt jostled, pushed, and prodded. There was an incredible pressure on her chest, making it hard to breathe, making it hard to think, but it was almost like…she didn't care. 

She was drifting, further and further away from it all. Away from the noise. Away from the pain. Away from her body.

Towards peace. 

Towards warmth.   
  
Towards blissful _nothingness_.

She felt in her bones someone calling to her from somewhere far away— a whisper of sound on the warm breeze guiding her along.

_‘Rey….little Reybeam…’_

The sound of it— a familiar voice, a familiar name—made her want to cry tears of joy, tears of longing.

_Wait for me_ , she wanted to say. _I’m coming, just wait_. 

It felt like forever. She was so worried that they would leave her because she didn’t want to be left behind, she didn’t want to be alone anymore. But she could tell she was getting closer to it. So, so close to that place of

No pain.

No fear.

No sadness.

It wasn’t far now. Just a little bit further……

_‘…You can let go Rey,’_ the kind voice, the gentle voice, told her. _‘You can be at peace….’_

_Yes._ She wanted peace. She wanted to let go. She didn’t want to hurt so much anymore. She didn’t want to be so alone. She was so tired of all the pain and sadness and cold. So tired of fighting to survive. She was just so

Tired. 

_‘It’s okay, Rey….let go…’_

Rey reached out, her heart sore, her chest and body so empty, so light, like a feather, _Here I am, I’m so close! Please don’t leave me. Please, I’m ready, I want to come home, I want to come home—_

Suddenly another voice—deep, powerful, and loud filled the space inside her and surrounded her, enveloping her in sudden staticky energy.

_Fight_ , it said.

It was an order. A challenge. A plea. She had heard this before sometime, somewhere. She wanted to ignore it. She didn’t want to fight anymore. She wanted to keep going towards that other place, that other voice. She was so close to peace. She was so close to what felt like _home_. 

But.

_Come on, Girl,_

**_Fight._ **

And then something… _sparked_. Like the single, silent flash of lightning, far away on the horizon. Too far to hear the _crack_ of sound, but in the smothering blackness the sudden flare of it drew her attention. There was something there where it came from, some darker thing, an umbra in the black, and it was calling to her. She had a feeling that if she went to it, she’d find something important. 

_‘The choice is yours, Rey,’_ the air whispered to her. 

_What choice?_ The more she felt it, the more she knew. 

The other place, the softer voice, it wasn’t for her. Not yet. 

_Not yet._

She needed to go to the dark thing, the pleading shadow. It needed her. She had something to do, something to prove to it. 

She took a step towards it, black sand shifting beneath her feet, trembling in the sudden wind blowing around her, rushing her, picking her up and careening her towards it, towards the storm on the horizon, but she wasn't afraid, she wasn’t, because the black thing, the shadow, the dark voice, meant—

  
There was a great electric _BZZT._ Rey felt her heart THA- _THUMP_ painfully, agonizingly in her chest.

  
—Life. 

* * *

  
~~~OOOO~**~OOOO~~~

* * *

  
Girl survived.

Barely.  
  
Her heart had basically begun seizing erratically in her chest—practically stopped pumping blood at all—and it had taken them almost too long to get it beating again. Kylo had felt her life force disappearing, like a foggy handprint on cold transparisteel, not even a flame anymore. Just the memory of heat. 

He’d stood to the side, watching with bated breath as the medidroids and human medics tried again and again to shock her heart back into rhythm. He’d found himself reaching out in the Force, urging her the same way he had at the auction.

_Fight. Come on, Girl,_

_**Fight.**_

The air crackled with energy, the Force shifted, and whether by his efforts or the medics’, the machines began blipping out her weak heart rate soon after.

Kylo's relief was instant, the muscles of his body releasing some of their tension, and it seemed to relieve the medics as well by the stressed glances they kept shooting him. Perhaps he wasn’t controlling his emotions as strongly as he should and it was affecting them, but he cared not. He only cared that they do their job, and do it well. 

He stood, like a dark guardian, watching with a critical eye as they began prepping to move her. 

“What are you doing?” He asked tensely, following them. 

“She needs a full bacta treatment in the tank, Milord,” one of the medics hurriedly explained. “She’s too ill.”

He looked away only when they removed her clothes to dress her in a medical suit that wouldn’t affect the treatment, but as soon as she was decently covered again he was back on his watch. 

They secured a breathing apparatus to her face, checked all of the lines connecting to her body and suit, and then lowered her into the bacta tank. Once she was submerged and the transparisteel lid was sealed, the flurry of medics and droids died down as they moved back to other, less-urgent patients and tasks. 

Kylo felt it safe to approach the tank, where he stared down at her small form, cast in a blue light from the healing liquid. It wasn’t right that she looked so cold. Logically Kylo knew the bacta was warmed to a degree or two above body temperature, but she looked cold. 

He realized he never got her any socks. He should have at least given her some kriffing socks. 

The lead medic stepped beside Kylo with a steady “Lord Ren,” his aged face cerulean from the glow.  
  
“What is your assessment, doctor?” Kylo asked him in a low voice.  
  
The man gave a contemplative pause. “Based on what I’m seeing here from the loss of body fat and muscle atrophy, she experienced heart failure due to complications from acute starvation.”

Kylo frowned, growing tense. “Acute starvation? But that takes weeks. She was checked when she came aboard. The medidroid would have said—“

The doctor held up a hand. “I know what it said. And you’re correct— according to the droid assigned to her, she wasn’t this malnourished or starved when she first came aboard. But, perhaps due to something with her metabolism, or another unknown factor, somehow she managed to nearly starve to death in less than a week.”

A younger medic appeared with a data pad in hand. He handed it to Kylo while the elder doctor continued with his report. 

“She was— _is_ —in dire straits, Milord. Most of her organs were beginning to fail, her heart was in cardiac arrest and failing, even her bone marrow has been depleted somehow so she’s quite anemic and at risk for infection. Her weight is so low that her body can’t regulate her temperature anymore. Coupled with the extreme climate change going from Jakku to the ship’s cooler air, she was actually hypothermic. I imagine she’s been experiencing arrhythmia and other symptoms that typically preclude episodes like this, and all while dealing with the effects of the vaccines she was administered.…in all honesty, Milord,” he shook his head in disbelief. “She should be dead.”

Kylo looked at her medical log with growing upset. 

“How did she fare with the vaccinations?” The elder medic asked.

“As well as one does, I suppose,” Kylo droned, trying to keep the dread he felt from somehow becoming detected by this man. She had reacted so strongly when he’d brought out the needle gun before, but he’d just assumed it was typical needle aversion. Even he didn’t like needles. But now…

He nonchalantly scrolled through the file until he reached IMMUNIZATIONS.

“Well,” the medic continued, “she received three in one sitting, and one of them was—“

“—Paravacc 1.X,” Kylo murmured. _Kriffing **fuck**_ **.**  
  
The younger medic spoke up. “We call that one the ‘Whiplash’, because it leaves your head and neck so sore and stiff, like being shaken in a—“

“Is it standard protocol to give so many vaccines at one time?” Kylo interjected, his voice gruff and accusatory. 

The elder medic pursed his lips. “…Well, not normally, no. Standard operating procedure for Paravacc 1.X dictates a strict observation period due to the risks associated with spinal injections, as well as the often unpleasant side-effects of the medication on the spinal cord and cerebellum. What did she experience?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo admitted tensely. “Unless your droid was with her, she was alone.”

The medic looked at him in stern horror. “Milord, you specifically requested limited contact for your rooms when you settled aboard. We _reprogrammed_ the droids to accommodate you. Even for something like this, the droid would have administered care and then left, _as per your request_.”

Kylo felt his hackles rise. He'd forgotten about that. “Well I wasn’t there. Which means she was alone.”

All three of them looked over at Girl’s floating unconscious form, both medic’s faces masks of incredulity. 

“She should be dead,” the medic repeated in a shocked whisper. “It’s a miracle that she’s still alive.”

“Yes, the galaxy still has it’s mysteries and wonders,” Kylo droned sarcastically, handing the datapad back. “The most important thing is that she recovers. And I expect you to ensure a full recovery in a timely manner, doctor.” 

The medic pursed his lips, his displeasure at being commanded by someone not only _not_ within the First Order pecking order but also younger than he written plainly on his face. But he gave a curt nod, with a clipped, “Of course, Milord.”

The medic continued. “She’ll be fed proper nutrients intravenously until she wakes up and is strong enough to eat by herself. The bacta will help repair some of the damage done to her organs, but we won’t know until tomorrow or the day after.” He paused, his voice turning sour. “As it is my job, I shall give every effort on the _slave girl’s_ behalf.”

“See that you do,” Kylo growled with a dismissive air, ignoring the jab. The two medics exchanged glances and then moved away with begrudging deference. 

Kylo stayed there, looking down at Girl, trying to figure out where things had gone so wrong. How could he have missed this? He thought back to all the times he’d seen Girl over the past several days, and realized that even though there had been small tells leading up to her collapsing, if she had been suffering at all she had hidden it _very_ well. 

She had been foolhardy and stupid to hide these things from him. To what end? She just ended up collapsing and causing an even bigger problem. She should have told him. 

_You should have seen it._

Kylo clenched his fists, shutting his eyes against the words. It wasn’t his fault; he’d been busy. He had his mission to fulfill and his Knights to look after. He wasn’t omniscient and wasn’t strong enough in the Force to maintain a constant mental link with his underlings the same way Supreme Leader could. 

_Although_ …, his frown deepened. 

It was somewhat unprecedented that he had heard her thoughts so clearly crying out ‘NO DON’T LEAVE ME’ earlier in the corridor. Normally thoughts from others were difficult to hear unless their mind was particularly weak-willed and open. Even trying to sense the thoughts of his Knights when they were pushing them at him typically only resulted in a vague understanding of what they were trying to say. Never clear words, as if he had a comm piece in his ear. It was something else for him to look into when she woke up.

Nevertheless, she needed to learn how communicate her needs to him, _out loud_. He’d given her the future opportunity to speak to him about things by making the table a place for her to do so, a tactic his mother had used on him when he was child in order to get him to fess up to the various acts of hoodlum he’d gotten into. The memory of it had surprised him, popping up in his mind suddenly as Girl had struggled to contain her emotions across the table.

_“Asking for special food is asking for a whipping, or worse,”_ she’d uttered, like an old recording, her face grim and shoulders weighed down by too many memories, too many whippings.

Kylo had wanted to tell her that the nutrimeal was the substandard food and the meals she couldn’t keep down were the special ones, but he had a feeling that would just upset her more. 

And then the memory of _her_ voice and face appeared in his minds eye, stern and slightly incredulous as she looked over his bleeding fingers. 

_“What happened here, Ben? And don’t give me any B.S. about the droids.”_

_A twelve year old Ben Solo looked away to the side._

_“I lost control again,” he mumbled, ashamed and nervous, “and the vase broke. I was afraid you’d be mad so I tried to fix it.”_

_She sighed with a sad and exasperated smile. “You know this type of stuff is what the Table is for, sweetheart. You don’t need to go behind my back to fix things, especially since they usually end up more broken than they were in the first place, and then I get stuck fixing two things instead of just the one.” She shook her head with another put-upon sigh. “You and your dad…”_

_She gingerly looked over the cuts, then glanced up with a rueful smile and ran her fingers through his unruly dark hair._   
  
_“Well, C’mon, Little Star, let’s bandage you up—“_

He did not want to remember those things from his past. He was not that naive young child anymore. He wasn’t even that young man anymore. But, if Girl was anything like the child he’d been, perhaps using ‘Table Talk’ would work.

With that said, Kylo resolutely decided going forward that if she neglected to tell him important things, she would have to deal with consequences on her own. He was not going to beg her to speak anymore. Even now he winced in embarrassment from how weak he’d been to say ‘please’ to her. 

No, next time she’d speak, or she’d have to deal with her problems by herself. _Without_ letting them get this far. 

Kylo’s comm beeped and he lifted it to answer, “What,” his voice perhaps a bit too gruff and annoyed, but he knew it was either Tomaxx pinging to alert him something about Cseenan, or Cseenan himself. 

The Chiss had commed him earlier while he dealt with Girl to let him know Cseenan had appeared back at the Situation room, and _"do you still want him to report to you?”_ To which Kylo had snapped that Cseenan was to remain by Tomaxx’s side until relieved, ending the transmission before Tomaxx could reply. 

The small pause now from the comm after Kylo’s abrupt answering told him it was Tomaxx before the Knight spoke. 

_“…I sensed a small disturbance, Master. What happened?”_

It was an understatement—there was no way the Chiss missed the tumultuous crashing of the Force from the altercation in the corridor earlier, and no doubt he also felt the shifting that occurred when Girl almost died— but Tomaxx was always tactful. 

“Where is Cseenan?” Kylo asked instead of answering.

_“He is still here with me, being particularly insufferable.”_ Kylo heard the beginnings of a guttural snarl in the background before the sound was cut off. 

Kylo stood, silently at war with what he wanted to do. Should he tell them to come here, or should he go to them and explain what happened? He did not want Cseenan anywhere near Girl anymore until he could trust that the Barabel wouldn’t try to eat her again, but he was also loathe to leave the slave alone. He’d done enough of that already. 

He lifted the comm. “Both of you come to medbay two immediately.”

_“Yes, Master.”_

Kylo wrestled with how to explain this to Tomaxx. He supposed he could just blame Girl’s origins for her current condition. She was starving when she came aboard and suffered complications from it, resulting in an accelerated decline in health. It was a plausible lie, and it would shift the blame. But Tomaxx was no fool. 

He could feel his Knights approaching and met them at the door, stopping a now-masked Cseenan from entering. 

“Not you,” Kylo ordered. “You stay in the corridor.”

The Barabel’s claws clicked together in an aggravated manner, but he gave a stiff nod and took up a post just outside the doorway without a word.   
  
Tomaxx followed Kylo silently into the medbay proper, although he could sense morbid curiosity from the Knight. As soon as the bacta tank and it’s inhabitant became visible the Chiss slowed his approach, no doubt a million calculations and hypotheses running through his intelligent mind. 

Kylo said nothing, waiting for the Knight to speak first. It wasn’t long before Tomaxx did, choosing his words with care.

“I apologize for asking again, Master,” he began, turning to Kylo. “But what happened? Cseenan came back to the Situation room with the berserker look about him, and now Girl is in the medbay. I’d ask if he caused this, but I know if he did she’d be in pieces, not merely unconscious.” 

“She’s not ‘merely unconscious’,” Kylo bit back. He wished it was that simple. 

Curious, Tomaxx wandered over to the vitals screen and began scrolling through the information the medics had reported. 

“Could it be Refeeding Syndrome?” The Chiss wondered out loud. “Not enough phosphate and magnesium in the blood to help with the sudden rise in protein synthesis would explain many of these symptoms, and the heart failure.” He continued reading. “Or an adverse reaction to the vaccines? Paravacc is not for the faint of heart. People die from the vaccine more often than from the parasites they ward against.”

“Possibly,” Kylo murmured. “Apparently the medidroid did not stay to observe her after administering it, so she very well may have developed issues from that.”

The Knight hummed noncommittally and continued scrolling, reading quickly. Then he stopped, his head tilting a degree.

“…but she hasn’t eaten in five days.” Tomaxx looked up, the face of his mask unreadable but the accusation there all the same. 

“I did not starve her on purpose, if that’s what you’re thinking, Tomaxx Ren,” Kylo growled.   
  
“It hadn’t crossed my mind, Master. You said she was getting three meals a day. But why wasn’t she eating?”

Kylo stepped closer, looking down at Girl’s lax form. She looked peaceful, like a body in a watery coffin. 

“The food made her ill, apparently. She didn't tell me until right before this.” 

“I had thought she looked frail,” Tomaxx mused quietly. “I should have spoken more plainly.”

Kylo looked over at his Knights, frowning. “You _did_ say something.”

Tomaxx nodded. “But I had deeper concerns, Master. I should have voiced them.” 

Kylo looked back down at Girl, his frown deepening. “Yes,” he murmured. “You should have.” 

Tomaxx rarely kept impertinent opinions to himself. Sometimes it took some meandering through other conversation for the Knight to make himself heard, like he had earlier in the Situation room. But Kylo had never known him to keep important things to himself if it affected his master or the team. 

Girl had apparently felt unable to speak to him either, which he chalked up to her conditioning and the rocky start to their situation. But the thought of Tomaxx feeling unable to speak to him….disturbed him.

_He should have spoken his mind._

_You should have noticed._

Kylo clenched his fists, blocking the voice from his mind. He would not wallow in guilt over this. 

He was gifted a distraction as Tomaxx spoke up again, quiet but serious, focus no longer on the data pad but on the Master.

“What happened with Cseenan?”

Kylo crossed his arms, his voice low and frustrated. “Cseenan disobeyed me. I told him to go to the training room and he did not.”

“Is that all?” The Chiss said with a frown in his voice.

“Any order disobeyed is an affront to me,” Kylo hissed, “no matter how small.” 

The Knight paused for a breath. “It is only that he seems particularly agitated. I asked him, but he refuses to tell me. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “if he was in his hindbrain it could just be that he might not remember.” 

“Cseenan disobeyed me. There is nothing else to say about it,” Kylo said shortly. 

It was Kylo’s mistake to not control his emotions better. Immediately he knew Tomaxx could tell that this was something more than just an affront over simple disobedience. 

“With all due respect, Master,” he argued quietly, aware of the potential ears around them, “This does not seem to me to be something left for time to tell. If Cseenan did something grievous to offend you, I should know. We are a team—”

“Enough, Tomaxx,” Kylo snapped. 

The Knight was quiet for another moment. Kylo sensed he was becoming irate, but Tomaxx was never the type to yell. It almost seemed that the quieter the Chiss became in his anger, the more you knew his temper was rising—and the more dangerous he became.

Tomaxx took a small step towards his Master, his voice soft and low and deliberate, and Kylo let his hand drift near his saber, tensing as his Knight spoke.

“Am I to remain in the dark about this for my sake…..or for _yours?”_  
  
Kylo straightened to his full height, just a few inches above the Chiss but enough to be looming, and leaned in threateningly, whispering harshly,

_“Enough.”_

The Chiss did not move, but his body was rigid. Kylo could see a couple medics quickly moving away, having sensed the high tensions running between the two dark Force-sensitives. It was Kylo who leaned away first, turning back to look down at Girl.

Tomaxx stood silently, darkly pensive. When he spoke up again his voice was just above a whisper, but no less able to convey the danger of his mood.

“My apologies, Master. With your permission, I will go back to doing research with Cseenan.”

Kylo gave a curt nod, and Tomaxx swept around him and out of the medbay without another word, like a brooding storm, crackling with silent violence. 

After he knew his Knights were gone, Kylo still stood staring down at the bacta tank, trying to quell his own temper. But it seemed like everyone was out to bring up his rage today. He wasn’t even sure why he was so irritated but—

_“What are you doing? STOP.”_

_“Just culling the herd, Princey Boy—”_

Snarling, Kylo turned from the blue tank. He ordered a nearby medic to “Inform me immediately if her condition changes,” and then stomped out of the medbay, unsure where he was heading but knowing that he needed a calming distraction to settle him or he was going to end up destroying more than just a unit of droids this time. 

* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhhhh
> 
> For some reason I'm very nervous about this and the next several chapters. I won't ever post anything I'm not at least 99.99% satisfied with, but I'm also aware that sometimes what makes me happy doesn't sit well with others >_> I suppose I'll just have to ask y'all to trust me with this story. I have a plan 👍 
> 
> Also, with Japan being f*cking insane, schools are starting back up next week (even though the pandemic has finally started getting bad here 🙃) which unfortunately means I won't have 8+ hours every day to work on this fic because I'll have to work, and this school year I am teaching at 13 schools 😭😵. So updates might slow down to once per week after next chapter's posting. We shall see though. I'll try to get them out faster but, I don't want to skimp on quality. I would never forgive myself 😵
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo has a dream, tries to start fixing things, and breaks some others.   
> Posting date: Wednesday, April 8th, 8pm Japan time


	23. Break and Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has a dream, and tries to fix some things...

* * *

Kylo dreamed. 

He was on a starship, the hallways smooth grey and black durasteel under harsh lights. But it was unlike any starship he’d ever been on. The corridors were lined with shelves upon shelves upon shelves of a vast array of vases, in all shapes, sizes, and colors. The shelves went on as far as he could see down the corridor, which seemed impossibly long for a normal starship, and yet it felt normal here. 

And Kylo was there to stand guard in the corridor. He was to make sure no one touched the vases, and that nothing happened to any of them. It was his duty, and he swore to do it well.

But there was a rattling noise coming from somewhere, out of place in this quiet ship, and so with ears alert Kylo began to slowly walk forward. The source ended up being a smallish floral-patterned vase that was sat on a shelf about shoulder height. It was vibrating, chittering and chiming as it rattled against the vases near it. 

Kylo approached it, hands coming up to touch it, to stop it, and suddenly the vase just, _threw_ itself off the ledge. He tried to catch it as it bounced off his chest, but his arms were excruciatingly slow, and he watched with dawning horror as it fell to the durasteel floor and shattered, loudly, like the sound of a thousand blasters going off at once. 

He took a step backwards, pieces crunching beneath his heavy boots, trying to assess how bad the damage was. He kneeled down to try and gather the pieces, thinking maybe he could put them together again, maybe no one would notice. But for some reason he couldn’t fit them back together. It was like they were each from a different pottery. 

There was no way to repair it. This was _bad_.

Kylo’s heart rate picked up, He needed to leave, he needed to get away. He couldn’t let anyone know that he did this. That vase was special. He didn’t know why he knew it, he just did. 

Out of all the hundreds of thousands of vases around him, that one was the most special, and he’d broken it. 

_NO_. He shook his head. He didn’t break it. It broke itself. He needed to leave. It wasn’t his fault. _It wasn’t his fault._

He turned on his heel and tried to run, but his legs were uncooperative. It was like he was trying to run through thick water. He couldn’t get away fast enough, he couldn’t move.

And then another vase fell off a shelf. It shattered like a canon blast. 

And then another one fell. 

The shards of broken pottery shot out all around him as one by one, and then more and more, the vases threw themselves to the floor. It was a raucous mess, growing louder and louder and messier and messier with each passing second.

“Stop it,” he ordered, and then louder, his voice hoarse with anger and fear. “STOP IT!” 

Another voice appeared from somewhere, from everywhere, deep and wrathful,

“Why did you do this? What did you do? How could you break my vases? What kind of monster are you? WHAT KIND OF MONSTER ARE YOU.”

“I didn’t do this!” He yelled, beginning to feel the shards of pottery pierce through his clothes and cut his skin. 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU NOTICE THE VASES. WHY DID YOU KNOCK THEM OFF.”

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT—“

“I TRUSTED YOU, I THOUGHT YOU COULD PROTECT THEM.”

Kylo covered his ears, “SHUT UP, SHUT UP, _SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”_

The broken pieces were flying everywhere, cutting him, digging into his skin, making him growl in pain, and he tried to get away, tried to move to where there might not be any vases, but they were everywhere, cutting into him, tearing him apart, they were slicing his body to ribbons and—

Kylo woke up in his bed, chest heaving and drenched in sweat. 

He ignored the shaking of his limbs, tried to breathe through it and calm himself, but the walls felt like they were closing in on him, the shadows warping around him. He reached out with the Force to turn the lights on but his concentration was shot, and the walls were _moving_ , so he lunged out of bed, snarling as the blanket caught around his legs, and stumbled to the controls and—  
  
The lights blared to life, making him wince. But the walls stopped. They were just where they had been, the whole time. 

Kylo stood, looking around, feeling a hairsbreadth away from Force-blasting anything that moved. After a moment of nothing, he then puffed out his cheeks letting out a long breath, smoothing the wayward locks of damp hair away from his face with trembling hands. 

Of course he would have a nightmare now, of all times. And with _vases,_ of all things. 

He was a kriffing idiot. A weak fool.

He tried to get his heart rate to slow down as he took in measured breaths. Tried to release the tension pulling his muscles painfully tight along his spine. The sweat quickly cooled on his skin as he did, making him shiver slightly. 

Normally vivid dreams would inspire him to try and interpret them, because more often than not they were visions from the Force. But this was not one he wanted to ruminate on. He did not need to analyze it to know it was the Force mocking him for his many faults, for his many defects. They had been thrown into stark relief lately, and Kylo _hated_ it.

So instead he tried to clear his mind of the images, tried to wash his mentality with blissful nothingness.

He doubted he would be going back to sleep again, not with the adrenaline still coursing in his veins and not with the looming threat of a revisit to that dark dream. So he took one last look around his room, mentally shoving the nightmare deep down and far away in his mind, and then went with resigned steps into the ‘fresher for a shower. Routine and discipline would help settle him. _Routine and discipline._

As he undressed he noticed a bundle of clothes folded neatly and tucked in the corner beneath the sink. Kylo stared at it in confusion for a moment, trying to figure out when he’d ever left his dirty clothes in the ‘fresher, when he realized it was the outfit he’d given Girl when she’d first come aboard.

He’d given her fresh clothes to change into for meeting the Knights, and she’d left the soiled ones here. Had that really only been yesterday? The cold bowl of nutrimeal had already been cleared away by the time he’d returned last night, but here lay other evidence that yesterday had indeed happened and it hadn't just been some elaborate hallucination of his over-worked mind.

With a moue of disapproval at the forgotten bundle— _she needs to learn the proper way to clean_ —, Kylo kicked his clothes to join Girl’s, turned on the shower, and then stepped beneath the tepid spray.

After leaving the medbay in a rage yesterday he’d gone to the shooting range to try and get his ‘destructive release’ in a way that would cause the least amount of damage (compared to his droid massacre, at least). He hadn’t shot a blaster since he started to train more heavily with his saber—in fact he’d been avoiding blasters for a long while now. But he’d been so irritated after everything that had happened, so furious with Girl, Cseenan, Tomaxx, and himself, that he’d thoughtlessly gone straight to the practice range.   
  
As soon as he’d picked up a blaster pistol, he remembered why he’d been avoiding them all this time.

_“Alright, kid, here. Now, this isn’t a toy so don’t go pointing it all over the place. You could seriously shoot somebody, and then your mom will kill us both.”_

_“But…don’t blasters have a safety switch?”_

_The man smirked. “Not your old man’s blaster, son. All the trouble I been in? There’s no time to switch the safety off. It’s shoot or be shot, kid.” He frowned, pointing sternly. “Don’t tell your mom I said that.”_

Kylo had very quickly switched to an auto-blaster rifle after that. The change in grip coupled with the constant noise helped drown out the memories.

He was a perfect shot on all of the range courses. Targets, drones, battle simulations—all mastered. Soon enough there was a small group of stormtroopers watching him, muttering amongst themselves as he hit bullseye after bullseye. For each one he hit, he felt the tension in his shoulders release. 

The focus that was required to make perfect shots narrowed his mind the way saber dueling didn’t. With hand-to-hand combat you had to be aware of every one of your enemy’s movements in order to anticipate, see, and counteract them. But shooting targets was almost meditative in it’s simplicity. 

He’d wandered back to the weapons rack, perusing the options and considering changing to a handheld blaster canon just to feel the kickback, when an emboldened trooper stepped up, albeit a respectful distance away.

“You’re an incredibly versatile warrior, Lord Ren,” she'd said. “Those were some amazing shots back there.”

_“Woo! Great shot, kid! Did you see that Chewie? This kid’s gonna be the best shot in the galaxy, right after his dad—“_

Kylo had felt his meditative-high sour within a heartbeat. Any desire to continue shooting evaporated and he’d stiffly turned and shoved the still-warm auto-blaster rifle into the trooper’s uncertain hands.

“Blasters are a cowards weapon,” he’d sneered. “I came here only to remind myself of that, not to hear your worthless bleating.” And then he’d swept out of the firing range, troopers parting for him quickly like a murmuring white sea. 

In the shower, Kylo gave a small self-deprecating sigh and scrubbed his face. He really needed to learn to control his words. His anger was as part of him as his blood—without it he would cease to have anything to keep his life going. But lately with how tense and aggravated everyone was—although he blamed Cseenan for being the root cause of most of it—he would do well to try and filter himself a little. For the time being, at least. 

It still unnerved him that Tomaxx had felt unable to voice himself. He needed to be able to trust his Knights, he needed them to be able to trust him. Otherwise, how could they survive? The three of them were all they had.

 _And Girl_. 

Kylo frowned. A small part of himself rejected the notion, but it was true. Since he had taken her from the only world she’d ever known, he was now all she had anymore. And while that theoretically meant that she’d have to learn to rely on him with or without trust, Kylo knew that if she couldn’t trust him, then there was the potential that she’d end up hurting herself unnecessarily again. Or, she’d find someone else to rely on. And Kylo did _not_ want that.

She was his.

She belonged to _him._

But all his possessiveness meant nothing if he couldn’t even simply _keep her alive_. He needed to be a better master. He needed to form a plan for how to fix things.

Obviously there was only so much he could do for Girl for the time being. The medics were taking care of her now, and all he could do was wait until she woke up and was deemed fit for discharge. But he could try and figure out what to do with her when she was released to him. 

_Yes_ , plans were good, plans gave him direction and focus. 

Rinsing off the suds quickly after scrubbing down, he grabbed his razor for a quick blind shave beneath the spray.

Girl had _very plainly_ made it known that she was not content to sit in his rooms ‘on her arse with the datapad all day,’ as she’d put it, so there would be no more keeping her there.

She couldn’t train, that much was certain. Snoke forbade it. 

She had said that she was a mechanic on Jakku, so perhaps Kylo could have her look after their weapons. She’d probably need to be taught the basics of their upkeep, but the concepts were simple enough. 

He shut off the water. 

_No_. He didn’t trust her enough to let her near their weapons yet. Especially their lightsabers. She’d probably end up turning one on while staring straight down the hilt and killing herself. 

Kylo grabbed the bathing sheet and began toweling off.

Perhaps she could assist them in researching, since she apparently knew how to read. More eyes meant more work done in less time. And she could have a different perspective on things. 

He paused. _No_. Their mission was too case-sensitive, and his Knights would not be comfortable besides. And on top of that, Kylo didn’t trust Cseenan around her. 

But Girl needed something to do. 

Kylo dropped the bathing sheet by the clothes and exited the ‘fresher to dress. 

Maybe she could work in the kitchens just until he and the crew knew her better, and then he'd try to find something in engineering for her. Perhaps they’d let her run errands and messages. Sometimes there were things that droids couldn’t do, messages they were not trusted to move around the ship. If she could be trusted, perhaps she could be such a courier.

Kylo sat on his bed in only his pants, his undershirt clutched in his hands, and let out a long exhale. Another dawning realization gripped him: he had no idea what Girl was actually capable of in terms of work. It wasn’t something they had really gone into detail with, and of course he had been avoiding the rooms so it hadn’t come up. 

_“You weren’t here,”_ she’d said. _“Why did you ignore me?”_ She’d asked. 

_Because I’m evidently a bigger fool than even my father._

Kylo pressed his knuckles to the bridge of his brow, fighting back the headache forming behind his eyes. He was tired. The past day had been incredibly trying, what with everything that Girl had put him through. He thought briefly of going back to sleep but…

_No._ There were things to be done. He needed to step things up with the Knights because they were no doubt behind on time. Who knew where the map piece had ended up by now. If the Resistance found Skywalker before them, they could lose the war without it even beginning. 

Kylo finished dressing quickly, stepping into the ‘fresher to pick up the clothes strewn about. Something fell when he gathered up Girl’s things, and when his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing, he froze. 

It was her loincloth.

It was here, in the ‘fresher. Which meant she hadn’t been wearing it after her shower yesterday, even though she’d definitely worn her chest wrap. She’d been bare under her pants yesterday. 

That was not an image for him to ponder. _Not at all._

 _Kriffing hell,_ Kylo squeezed his eyes shut. The medics had removed her clothing for the bacta tank yesterday, so now they knew too. Which also meant it was only a matter of time before it was spread about the ship that Kylo Ren’s slave wasn’t wearing underthings when she collapsed. 

Whatever progress he’d managed to make by avoiding his rooms for the past three days, it was no doubt set back indefinitely because of this. What other reason was there to have your female slave not wear anything beneath her clothes than for ‘quick access’? All of his efforts to mitigate the rumor mill, everything that had gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours, had all very likely been for _nothing._

He wanted to be angry at Girl for this, wanted to blame her for making things worse for the both of them by her choices, but he couldn’t. It would have probably looked just as bad had she been wearing filthy underwear when they unclothed her in the medbay. He could hardly stand wearing filthy things himself, so it was easy to see why she hadn’t put them back on after showering. But it still pointed out that Kylo Ren couldn’t even provide the barest necessities for his slave. 

He made a noise of enraged frustration, picking up the offending scrap of cloth with Girl’s shirt and shoving the whole lot into the laundry chute. It would no doubt be burned by the laundrodroids, but at least it would be gone.

But this meant that he _absolutely_ needed to find _proper_ clothing for her.

No putting it off, either. He wouldn’t let himself forget like he’d forgotten with the socks. None of them knew when Girl was going to wake up, but he’d rather have things for her to wear before she did.

Which meant the first order of affairs for the day was to gather a kriffing wardrobe for her.

* * *

Kylo stalked the corridors, scanning every female officer as he went. He normally never gave a second glance at any of the officers, much less only the female ones. But now he was very glad for his mask, because otherwise the usual discomfort around him would have been tripled by everyone had they been able to see him very studiously examining almost all of the female officers that he passed. 

They were for the most part all thin, which was helpful, but so far they were either not tall enough or too tall for what he guessed to be Girl’s measurements. Any clothing she wore right now would be big on her due to her weight loss regardless, but once she gained a few pounds he ventured that she’d be able to fill everything out. 

Kylo tried to control his annoyance and frustration as he searched the corridors as inconspicuously as possible. He was frequently rendered a gritting figure of tension whenever he thought about how ridiculous this situation was. He was the Master of the Knights of Ren. He trained alongside killers, and had the capacity to command starships and fleets if he so wished, and yet here he was. 

Looking for clothes for a slave girl.

_She needs them_ , he reminded himself. This was part of being her master. He had to think of these things, because she had no agency to get these things done for herself yet. 

He would certainly be changing _that_ in the future, but for now this was what he needed to do to be a good master for her. He reasoned that he’d be doing the same thing for Tomaxx or Cseenan had they come to him with nothing. There was no shame in looking after one’s servants. Plus, his underlings were an extension of himself in some ways—If they were lacking in something, it was a reflection of his inabilities to keep them in working order as their master. 

Kylo’s eyes caught on a young officer who was busy at a console, some ways down the corridor. He looked her up and down, sizing her up to be about the same height and build as Girl as he approached. _She would do._

“You there.”

The female officer stood at attention sharply, her anxiety spiking when she saw who was addressing her, but her expression all-business.   
  
“Yessir.”

Kylo waited for a passing group of troopers to be a distance away before speaking in a low voice.

“I find myself in need of particular assistance in a matter of…discretion.”

If anything, her stoic expression became more serious. “Of course, Milord. I am at your service.”

* * *

The officer emerged from the uniform dispensary, a perfectly folded bundle in her hands. 

“Here you are, Milord. It’s a full outfit, socks and things included. Is this what you were thinking of?”

He eyed the clothes, not taking them. “They are suitable. Have three of everything and a pair of boots sent to my quarters.” 

She gave a snappy nod. “Right away, sir.”  
  
“Wait.”

She frowned. “Sir?”

Kylo thought for a moment, then decisively said, “Double the socks.” Six pairs would ensure she always had them.

“Yessir.”

He turned to go, wanting to call his Knights to the Situation room again to continue their research, but the officer’s hesitant, “Lord Ren,” made him stop.

“What?” He snapped over his shoulder. He didn’t have time for any pleasantries. He had things to do, and he didn’t want to be bothered with this anymore. 

She recoiled slightly at his tone but stood tall.

“I heard a girl was brought on board. From Jakku. I assume these are for her.” 

Kylo turned to face the officer fully, a challenge in his stance that she could obviously read by the way she shifted nervously.

“What of it?” He asked in a clipped tone.

She swallowed, back straightening. “Should you have anymore need for anything concerning _female_ things for her while she’s aboard, it would be a privilege to assist.”

Kylo considered her for a moment, trying to figure out what her angle could be, her anxiety drawing out as the silence grew. He didn't like the idea of someone else butting in on how he took care of Girl, but Kylo also realized that there probably _were_ a number of things Girl required that he, as a man, was unaware of.

_Ben listened to muffled yelling through a closed door._

_Another day, another screaming match. **SLAP**. He stumbled back as said door was thrown open, ejecting one Han Solo into the hall before slamming behind him._  
  
_The adolescent boy helped his father to his feet. “How come mom’s so angry, dad?”_

_The man rubbed his reddened cheek. “It’s a girl thing, son. They call it ‘men-ses,’ and I’m pretty sure it’s short for ‘Men are Cesspools’. They just get crazy at us, for no reason.” He patted young Ben’s shoulder, moving them away from the ornate bedroom door. “Best thing to do is just give ‘em sweet things and space.”_

Kylo was not as ignorant as that man. He knew far more about the workings of female physiology than he cared to let on, but he still dreaded finding out the hard way the things he didn’t know.

“What is your name, soldier?” Kylo finally asked after he took another moment to clear his head.

“Officer Mari Vines, Milord, of the comms sector.”

“Officer Vines,” he droned thoughtfully, “should I need of such assistance, I shall call on you then.”

She gave another curt nod. “Yessir.”

Without another word he turned again and left in a sweep of black cloaks and dark energy. 

Officer Vines wiped the sweat from her temple and went quickly to do as the Dark Lord bid her. She was not risking getting sliced by his red saber over a kriffing uniform.

* * *

After sending a quick comm to Tomaxx and Cseenan to meet him in the Situation room, Kylo stopped by the medbay to check on Girl’s condition. Her life-Force still seemed far too low, like the spluttering flame of a candlewick down to the end, and she still showed no signs of waking up yet. 

“Unfortunately there’s not much to say, Milord,” the medic told him as he looked over her file. “She’s still technically in critical condition, even with the bacta treatment and intravenous medicines we’re giving her.”

“What do you mean?” Kylo growled. “Is she still at risk of dying?”

“Technically, yes, but,” The medic shook his head. “She just needs more time, Milord. That’s all. It’s been less than twelve hours; usually something like this takes several days to see any significant amount of healing. And she’ll probably need several weeks after that to be well enough for discharge.”

_Several weeks?_

Kylo crossed his arms tensely, looking down at Girl’s submerged body. Her hair had come out of it’s buns and was floating like a dark halo about her head. 

The medic continued, voice low. “We will alert you if her condition changes, in either direction. But for now, Lord Ren, the best we can do is just wait.”

It was neither promising nor reassuring to Kylo, and he gripped his fists at the helplessness he felt. 

_Weak._

If the problem relied on someone going out and tearing something or someone apart, he could do it easily. He would be there and back before luncheon, even. But this was something he had no power in; this was not something he could do at all. 

_“Fuck, Princey, why do you always gotta try to control everything? You’re almost as bad as Sk—“_

Kylo turned on the medic, grabbing the man’s uniform in a tight grip and wrenching him close.

“You all told me yesterday that she would be getting the best care, the most _efficient_ care,” he snarled. “How is ‘several weeks’ any of that?” 

A number of nearby medics stopped to watch the scene, on alert but also very aware of their helplessness. 

_Good_ , thought Kylo. _Let them feel helpless._

The medic in his grip stared up at his mask with wide eyes, his face trembling. His voice was mostly steady when he spoke, however. 

“Even bacta cannot heal instantaneously, Milord. There is nothing else to do besides monitor her progress, as slow or as fast as it turns out to be.” He calmly reached up to pry Kylo’s hand from his chest. Kylo dropped him, aggravated, his hands flexing and making fists at his sides. 

“Please, Milord,” the medic implored. “Trust us to do our job. Come back tomorrow.”

Kylo stared him down from behind his mask, and then turned to press his heavy gaze on the rest of the medical staff as well. The air was thick with tension until a stormtrooper walked in and broke it. He froze in the doorway as soon as he saw the Dark Lord, his hands gripping his blaster tightly.

The trooper looked at the medic. “Is everything alright, sir?”

The medic nodded, then gave Kylo a pointed look. “Yes, Lord Ren was just leaving.”

Kylo itched to bring out his saber, to show everyone in that damned medbay just _who they were dealing with_ , in case they somehow hadn’t known before. 

But…

_“Why do you always gotta control everything—“_

He glanced at Girl, floating in the tank. There was nothing he could do for her. This was not something he could fix.

“Tomorrow,” he said with threatening promise, and then turned and left for the Situation room, bringing all of the tension along with him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Kylo. Baby steps, buddy.  
> Baby steps. 
> 
> What do you guys think the dream was about? What symbolism or themes did you catch? 🤔
> 
> Lots of things happening in the next several chaptersss  
> I am both excited and nervousss 🤩😬 
> 
> Also I'm hella depressed again because even though Japan declared a state of emergency for some areas, there's no penalties for not actually doing anything for it, and my town/school is still pretending that everything is fine, and I just want to be with my family but I can't 😭😭😭 It's a struggle to find any motivation to prep for work. I only have motivation and focus for this story 😭😂😬  
> Anywho, sorry for the emotional word vomit hahaaaa (I'll be fine, I promise. Writing my shit out is cathartic 👍✨)
> 
> Kylo got one (baby) step forward with Girl this chapter, but  
> Next Chapter: two steps back with the Knights...
> 
> Posting date: fuck it, let's post it on Saturday, April 11th at 11pm Japan time. 🤘🤪🤘


	24. Soresu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo trains with his Knights, but tensions are high...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your great comments last chapter!!! 😍😍🥰🥰🥰  
> I am again in a much better place mentally, partly because of your sweetness and partly because I think I figured out how to force my brain to produce serotonin: running. A lot 😃 🧠🏃🏻♀️💨💦 I ran 9.5 km on Thursday hahaaa (I've never run so far in my entire life😳). So Even though Japan is a slow train-wreck that I am unfortunately on, I will try to be more positive. Still careful, but positive.
> 
> I know it's a day early, but Happy Easter!! 🌺 🌸 🌼 🌻 🌞🐰🐤🐣

* * *

Things with his Knights were _strained_ today after the events of yesterday, to say in the least. 

The Situation room felt too small for all of the waves of irritation that each of them were throwing out, even just sitting quietly and reading. Both Knights were on their best behavior in spite of their underlying anger and tension, but it was probably due in part because Kylo had yet to acknowledge what had happened the day before or dole out any sort of punishment for Cseenan. 

Said Barabel was visibly on edge and bristling, his claws clicking every now and then, only stopping when Tomaxx would wordlessly look up at him with a certain sharp look in his red eyes. The Chiss seemed to be the most resigned one of the group, although Kylo could sense the frustration of not knowing what had happened still simmering beneath his frostily stoic facade. 

He had greeted Kylo with the usual nod and “Master,” but did not engage in conversation outside of, “Here, let me see.” “This has better intel,” and “Cseenan, quit bouncing your leg.” 

Cseenan was unable to hide how agitated he was with any degree of effectiveness, although he was obviously trying. Kylo could sense that he was wrestling with resentfulness and contrition, the latter which Kylo understood, but the former made him _quite_ irate. 

Did Cseenan resent Kylo for getting in the way of his kill? If anything, Kylo deserved to be more angry at the Knight than he currently was, because in a world of primal hierarchy the likes of which the Barabel came from, Kylo was the alpha who had been challenged and almost wronged. It was Cseenan who had crossed a line, not Kylo. 

And yes, Kylo was rightly pissed at Cseenan for hunting Girl, for almost eating her in the corridor. He could almost forgive the Barabel for it, knowing how his brain worked and how his senses lost control at times whenever he became hyper-focused on something. Kylo should have done more to intercept Cseenan before things had gotten so out of hand. It was another failure on his part as their master, and it was not a mistake that he would be making again.

But he was more furious that Cseenan had almost caused Kylo to fight him. _Truly_ fight him—with intent to kill. And that was Cseenan’s fatal mistake. 

They broke for luncheon, Kylo returning to his rooms to eat and leaving Tomaxx to stay with Cseenan. It was a punishment of sorts for Tomaxx, because being near Cseenan when he ate was disgusting. The Barabel ate nothing but raw meat, and an absurd amount of it. Also, Kylo was sure he would not have been able to keep himself from _viscerally_ imagining Girl being torn to shreds by the Barabel had he stayed to eat with them, so he left.

Once the mess was cleaned up, they returned to their work. Tomaxx was the only one making any real headway, as Cseenan was distracted with the small bits of carnage and tendons stuck in his teeth and claws, and Kylo was too focused on occasionally keeping a tendril of sense on Girl’s life-Force in case anything happened. It was ridiculous and weak of him, but he didn’t trust the medics to alert him should anything change in her condition. 

Eventually Kylo felt it good enough time as any for meditation and combat practice—he certainly needed both—so he dismissed them to prepare in the training room. 

Meditation was something he had had trouble with as a young man; his mind had never seemed to settle. But since submerging himself in the Dark Side he found it much easier to find focus, to find balance. 

It was also the only way to commune with Darth Vader, something he’d been wanting to do ever since he learned of his blood-relation to the infamous Sith, so he’d taken to putting more effort into the form. He certainly needed guidance now after everything that had happened, but he would only bother the Dark Lord about his Knights. Girl was not a problem to bring before him. That was a failing for Kylo alone to fix. 

As the three of them sat in a triangle on the floor of the dimly-lit training room, Kylo watched the Knights close their eyes and then he shut his own.

He focused on his breathing in order to help push his thoughts from his mind. Inhale….exhale. Inhale….exhale. He had it timed down to a minute now. A gradual clearing of everything, until all that was left was the air moving in and out of his lungs. 

Next he pushed out his senses, suddenly inundated with the presence of Tomaxx and Cseenan, then passing officers, training stormtroopers, infantry, airmen, and control technicians. Each a life, each a small refraction on the Force. 

And then there was Girl. 

Her small candle flame still burning in the vast darkness— Unassuming and quiet in her comatose state, but nonetheless alluring somehow.

He pushed out further, into the space around the ship, and then further, sensing a nearby system, a sun. All powerful, all dazzling, but Kylo paid them no second thought. His mind was set only on sensing the deep, sub-tonal hum testifying to the Dark Side of the Force underneath it all. 

He was awash with it, penetrated and submerged. It filled his mind, his heart, his soul. He could feel the power in it, the kinetic and potential energies, pulling and pushing against everything. The Light Side was there as well, but he ignored it. It had done him no favors in life, granted him no peace. Light-side users were hypocrites, all of them. Pretending to be bastions of harmony and balance. 

_Lies. All lies._

Kylo could feel it when he connected with Darth Vader. It was the same shadowy strength that he felt when he connected with his burnt helmet. 

‘Grandfather,’ he implored with reverence. ‘Show me the way. Guide me to be a better Master of the Dark Side. Teach me how to lead my Knights to victory.’  
  
It was only a moment before his entire being was vibrating with the deep bass of Darth Vader’s voice.

_‘…Young Kylo Ren….you have veered from the path….I sense weakness where there once was strength…’_

The sudden pain he felt from the scolding almost threw him out of his meditative state. But he would not shame himself nor Darth Vader that way, so he tamped it down.

‘Forgive me, Grandfather,’ he beseeched. ‘There have been disruptions. But I am still committed to fulfilling your legacy. Please, show me the way.’ 

There was silence for far too long, and Kylo worried that he’d insulted the Dark Lord to the point of no repair. Just one more thing broken he needed to fix. But then the deep voice returned, and he was filled with relief. 

_‘…To defeat Luke Skywalker….to end the Jedi….you must have strength…..Strength is gained through hate and anger….To lead your Knights…you must inspire…and you must…not…show…..mercy…’_

‘Yes, Lord Vader,’ he hummed, slowly returning back to himself. There was a myriad of emotions swirling within him from the exchange. He was embarrassed that his Grandfather had noticed his failures, and furious with himself for having them all over again. Kriffing Girl and Cseenan and Tomaxx, not following orders, not showing him his due respect. How dare they. How _dare_ they. He would show them who they were dealing with. He would show them who was master.

As he narrowed in on the ship, Kylo brushed past Girl again and stopped. There was an unmistakable dark presence, hovering near her.

It was Cseenan.

He was stalking her, even through the Force now.

Kylo snapped back into his body, willing the lights back up with a slash of his hand.   
  
“Enough,” he said roughly, the word loud in the long silence. Tomaxx’s brow creased before his red eyes squinted open in the bright light. Cseenan jerked where he sat, his own eyes pitch-black when he opened them. He looked around and then down, trying to breathe color back into them before Kylo could see.

But he’d seen.

“Up,” he ordered in a clipped tone, deciding quickly. “We’re practicing Soresu forms today.”

The Knights exchanged darkly perplexed looks, then answered, “Yes, Master,” rising to their feet while Kylo prepared the training droids. 

Soresu was a form meant for duels against blaster fire, and they were well trained in it due to the lack of saber-wielding opponents in the galaxy. Lately in preparation for a final battle with Skywalker, Kylo had been focusing on Ataru and Shien forms—with more aggression and Sith-style movements—as they were higher level saber-duel techniques. 

But today they would practice the basics. If Darth Vader said the way to Dark strength was through hate and anger, then Kylo would push his Knights with Soresu until they were hateful and angry.

They trained for hours, without breaks. Occasionally Kylo would deflect a blaster shot at one of the Knights to keep them on their toes. Usually they deflected it away. More than once, Cseenan was struck or grazed, although his scales were thick enough to protect him from any serious damage. 

Kylo could feel their frustration rising. He could feel their anger brewing within them like a molten core, pressure building towards an eruption. And three hours in, after seeing Tomaxx suffer another graze to his arm, Cseenan shut off the droids with a wave of his clawed hand and a snarl.

“Enough of this!”

Tomaxx panted heavily, shutting off his saber and sagging beneath the sudden weight of stillness. He and Kylo were both drenched in sweat, their dark hair plastered to their heads. Kylo kept his saber out, swinging it with the roll of his wrist.

“What is the meaning of this, Cseenan Ren?” He growled between searing breaths. "We’re not finished.”

The Barabel gave a quick once-over of Tomaxx’s arm, growling when the Chiss pushed him away with a breathy, “It’s fine, just a graze.”

Cseenan’s dark eyes found Kylo, his claws clicking rhythmically at his sides.

“Master, after the shame I did yesterday—“

“Cseenan Ren—“

“—Master I challenge you to a duel, for—“

“ ** _NO_**.”

The word rang in the large room. Cseenan stood stiffly, not even his tail twitched. Tomaxx’s brow furrowed, his red eyes widening a fraction. 

Kylo knew that Cseenan would ask him this. Barabels did not have a way of apology; in fact, saying ‘sorry’ caused more harm than good when dealing with them. Instead, the offending party would challenge the offended to a duel. If the offender won, then all was forgiven and forgotten, never to be brought up again. But if the offended won, they could choose to enact further punishment—if the offender wasn’t killed in the duel in the first place. To decline an official duel challenge was to deny the offender the chance to redeem themself.

Kylo was the strongest saber duelist out of the three of them. It was no question that he would be the winner; he always won whenever the Barabel offended him to the point of a duel. 

But Kylo did not even want to give Cseenan a chance to try to earn his pardon this time. 

_‘No mercy,’_ his grandfather had said. Well, no forgiveness either.

“Master,” Cseenan rasped, head bowed. “Let me fix it. Yesterday I—“

Wordlessly Kylo motioned the droids back on, cutting off the Knight’s words mid-sentence. 

Tomaxx looked between Cseenan and Kylo with thinly concealed incredulity, burning curiosity, and frustration.

“Back into form, Knights,” Kylo commanded darkly. “We’re not done yet.”

Tomaxx reignited his saber, gripping it with a wince of his sweat-streaked and stormily resigned face.

Cseenan did not move for a long moment, staring with amber eyes at Kylo before deflecting the first blaster shot with the jerk of his arm and swiftly reignited saber. The shot hit just near Kylo’s feet, and he looked up at Cseenan’s challenging gaze with wrath singing in his veins. 

No, Cseenan would not be dueling with Kylo. His punishment would not be swiftly given, either. Kylo wanted the Knight to writhe inside from his guilt, unable to find any sense of balance. Unable to find peace.

Kylo wanted Cseenan to suffer, and so he _would._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any interesting things in this chapter? Let me know! I love to hear your thoughts and theories 😁✨
> 
> Next Chapter: We finally hear what Rey has been experiencing, and there is a nightmare.
> 
> Posting date: Wednesday, April 15th, 9pm Japan time
> 
> P.S. I took some pics/video of some cherry blossoms near my apartment! They're on my tumblr if you want to see 😊🌸https://veggieheist.tumblr.com/post/615101405999611904


	25. Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey floats about, and there's a dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from a song, 'Undertow' by Ane Brun, and I HIGHLY recommend it for this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you guys for the comments for ch 24!!! I'm so excited to see new readers joining the reviewer fray!! 🤩 🤩
> 
> Sorry this is posted a teensy bit late; something came up around the time I usually start prepping for posting, and I had to deal with it 😬😬😬
> 
> Enjoy!!

* * *

  
Somewhere

Sometime

  
Rey floated. And 

  
It was warm.

That was her first realization. Her first thought, after what felt like a lifetime of nothing.

  
_Warmth._

  
She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be warm. And now, her whole body thrummed with it. Pulsed with it. And she felt safe.

Another novel sensation. 

Was she alive? Was she dead? She didn’t care. It didn’t matter here in this place of warmth and peace and safety.

There were other things, moving around her. She could sense them. Like little pill bugs, crawling on the skin of her Feelings. They were harmless. A few of them curious. But not a threat. Dark things were there, on the edge, but not here. 

Here she was safe. Here she was warm.  
  
She let out the whisper of a sigh, a release of so much tension.

And then drifting back into the gentle embrace of dreamless sleep,

  
Rey finally rested.

* * *

There was something….

Something there, among the pill bugs now. 

Something _dark,_ but not in color. More ‘dark’ like how a cave sounds when you can hear something big moving in it. Something impatient. 

She didn’t realize it was there until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it was farther away again, taking it’s dark impatience with it. Some part of her knew what it was, wanted to shrink from it, but she was too content where she was to care. Too warm. Nothing could hurt her here. 

And at this point, surrounded by smaller, unfamiliar shimmering pill bugs as she was, the dark thing was almost comforting in it’s familiarity.

Rey took another deep breath in, let out another sigh, and slipped back into sleep.

* * *

There was a soft lurching around her at some point, as if she was walking on hard ground that suddenly gave way to soft sand. She felt dropped, but only slightly. Everything felt un-real around her. There was ground beneath her feet, but not. There were walls on either side, and yet it was air. 

She heard sounds, like blaster fire, like canon fire, like thousands of shards of clay, clattering and thundering and blasting—but from far, far away. So distant. Dreamy echoes of chaos. 

And dreamy echoes of yelling, of screaming. 

Rey recoiled, she didn’t want to hear that, she didn’t want to feel that. Her skin tingled and then there was another lurch, slightly more jarring this time, and Rey fell back into nothingness. 

* * *

She could feel the dark thing sometimes, close but not close. Material, but not. Sort of like a strong wind. Strong enough to rustle the hairs on the skin of her Feelings, but not strong enough to prove something was there. Like something was reaching from far away.

It often felt like a watchful guard only halfway paying attention. She felt the eye focus on her again every now and then, but just to check. 

She wanted to try and reach back out to it but, she was still _so tired_. So instead, cradled in the warm blackness around her, Rey rested, Rey slept.

* * *

  
Rey opened her eyes. 

She was on a starship, gleaming black and grey durasteel illuminated by white lights. It was not the starship she had been on before, and yet, it was. There was a fuzziness to it, a blurring of the edges of the walls. She was there, but also _not._ She felt fragile, as if a breeze could blow her away, but there was also a hum beneath her skin, an electric vibration, as if she was a live wire.

There was someone yelling somewhere. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but somehow she could recognize the anger, the fear, the desperation that rang in the sound. What was happening? What was wrong? She didn't like this feeling in the air, this panic. Where was the warmth? Where was the safety?

“Hello?” She called, her voice echoing, weaving in and out of the staticky air. 

A moment later she heard a call back, but she couldn’t make out the words. The sound was too warped, the walls of the corridor too porous to reverberate it towards her with any degree of stability. 

She cupped her hands around her mouth and called again, louder, _“Hello?”_

The second reply rushed to her in a series of ever-louder waves, the final word making her heart jump in her chest and her skin prickle.

**_“RUN.”_**

So she turned on her heel, and she ran. 

The corridor didn’t change, there were no signs or any differences to tell any of the turns apart, but it didn't matter, she just needed to _run._ She just needed to _get away_. She didn’t know what was coming, but she could feel it, she could hear something now, a rasping, guttural pant, a scrabble of claws on gleaming black durasteel.

Rey took a turn, following the twisting corridor, but the next turn showed a dead-end. _Kriff,_ she thought, and turned around to find another route, but stopped. 

She froze. 

Don’t move. Don't run. _Never_ run.   
  
It was instinct. 

Down at the turn, standing in the center of the hazy corridor, was Cseenan Ren. There was something different about him, something even more crazed than she remembered, a dark blue, almost black ooze dripping from his jaws and splattered all over his front, all over his claws. Rey shook and gasped for air because there was no Lord Ren in this place to save her now.

The Barabel didn't bother speaking to her either, he just roared with a twisted grin, so many teeth, too many teeth, claws outstretched as he lunged for her, and Rey drew in a deep breath and _screamed—_

The world flipped, collided on itself, and pushed her out, out into nothing, a blue glow piercing the black where she floated for just a breath, but the black overcame the glow, dimming it, until all that was left was darkness.

Rey shuddered, feeling as if she’d just been dragged through cold mud, but the warmth was enveloping her again, so quickly, so completely, and she fell back into blissful, dreamless unconsciousness. 

* * *

~~~OOO~*~OOO~~~

* * *

Kylo dreamed. 

He was on a starship, somewhat familiar, but it was also unlike any starship he’d ever been on. There were no rooms, no viewports. Only an endless maze of corridors, twisting and turning without rhyme or reason, without end. 

He was alone; his Knights were nowhere to be found or sensed, but somehow he knew that if he just kept going, if he could find the right path, he would find someone. 

He needed to find someone. 

Anyone.

The silence of everything, the bland grey and black, the uniformity—it was stifling. Suffocating him. He needed to find someone, he needed to find _anything_ out of place, or he would go mad. He ran, taking turns, not caring about tracking his progress, not caring if he was going back on himself. He just needed to _go._

Just as he was beginning to become desperate, he turned a corner and jerked to a stop. His eyes landed on the figure of Tomaxx, standing with his back to Kylo just there down the corridor. 

“Tomaxx?” He called, moving forward cautiously. 

“We're lost,” he heard the Chiss say. “We tried to find you, but now we're lost.”

Kylo paused a few arm-lengths away, a feeling of dread falling over him. 

“Who else is lost?”

Tomaxx slowly pivoted _without moving his legs_ , as if he was on a turntable, as if he was floating, making Kylo's heart rate pick up, his breath come fast, and he tensed as between one blink and the next, Cseenan Ren was seen standing behind the Chiss. 

He had one clawed hand grasping Tomaxx’s black hair, the other dug into his shoulder, and Kylo cried out “NO!” As Cseenan grinned a malicious smirk, rasping _“Yesss, brotherrr,”_ and then he wrenched Tomaxx’s head aside and tore into his neck with too many teeth and guttural glee.

Blue blood splattered at Kylo's feet, and he tried to lunge forward to stop Cseenan, but his legs wouldn’t move, so he just _yelled_ and _commanded_ and _begged_ Cseenan to stop, to leave Tomaxx, to not eat the Chiss. Kylo’s skin was prickling, the fine hairs rising as if the air was suddenly filled with static, and then he heard something.

Another voice. 

An echo, from far off, but it was definitely a voice. 

Cseenan froze, his jaws clamped around Tomaxx’s neck vertebrae, attempting to chew through them the way he’d torn through everything else, attempting to take the Chiss’s head off. His black eyes sharpened, and Kylo turned to throw his voice out,

“GET OUT OF HERE.” 

He didn't know who it was, but he knew Cseenan would come after them and maybe if they shut up, they'd be safe—

“…Hello?” came the echoing reply.

Kylo’s heart dropped to his stomach.

He knew that voice. 

It was Girl’s voice.

He turned back around to see Cseenan had dropped Tomaxx’s body, the head hanging on only by a few tendons now, bluish black blood all over the floor and dripping from Cseenan’s grinning mouth.

Kylo dragged in a deep breath, screaming with all his might, all his being, hoping that it would carry, that it would reach her and make her

**_“RUN.”_**

And Cseenan bolted, transforming into a beast on all fours, sprinting and rasping like a baying hound down the corridor, around the corner, gone. 

Kylo tried to unstick his feet, tried to find a way to go, to run after the Barabel, because they were excellent hunters and they had two stomachs and Girl had no chance, no chance of stopping him. 

Tomaxx’s mouth gurgled, black tar oozing from his mouth, his face silver now for some reason, but Kylo couldn't understand what he was trying to say, and then he heard the reverberation of a roar and then an ear-shattering _scream_ and—

Kylo bellowed a hoarse, throaty yell, bolting upright in his bed. 

_Girl._ He needed to find Girl, He needed to save her from Cseenan, she was, the Barabel was going to, Tomaxx was _dead,_ his head was—

Kylo lurched to the ‘fresher and retched into the toilet, bile and not much else burning it's way up his throat as he gagged. 

He trembled as he flushed the small mess away, rinsing his mouth in the sink, leaning against it with arms braced on the sides, breathing deeply, trying to block out the images, block out the feelings. 

_So weak._

_So fucking weak._

He’s seen death and carnage before. He’s _dealt_ death and carnage before. But this dream, this was—

_“We’re lost.”_

_“We tried to find you, but now we’re—”_

Kylo shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut again the words in his head. Stop it, _shut up—_

_“Yess, brotherr—“_

His fist came up, punching the area above the sink where the mirror used to be, where he’d broken it in the same manner after seeing too many people, too many memories in the face that it reflected. 

His knuckles hit the durasteel, pain lancing up his sore arm. His mind cleared from the shock of it, like being dunked in cold water, so he did it again, and again, hitting harder and harder, screaming with pain and rage until the wall was decorated with bloody fist prints. A madman's painting. 

Kylo was left panting, sweating, blood dripping from his ruined knuckles in the middle of his ‘fresher. He lifted his throbbing limb, distantly observing the damage, feeling not of it and yet very distinctly of it, and then dropped it back to his side. 

He would need to see someone in the medbay for it; the bones were probably broken. His loss of control would be logged in the system. Again.

_“Fuck.”_

But it would give him a valid excuse to check on Girl. 

Girl, who's screams still echoed in his head, and he could just imagine what she'd looked like in the corridor when Cseenan caught her, teeth ripping into her, tearing her head from her neck—

With a snarl Kylo hit his fist against the wall again, silencing the noise. The Dark side of the Force pulsed around him from the pain. He took it in, absorbing it into his mind and heart, and then he turned and readied himself to visit the medbay.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what's happening....it's such a strange happenstance....such a peculiar coincidence.....
> 
> 😁
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo goes to the medbay, and an important step is taken...
> 
> Posting date: Monday, April 20th, 9PM (sorry guys, with work picking up I need more time between chapters 😭 I just don't want the quality to go down! im sorry i luv u 😭)


	26. The Junk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gets his hand fixed and learns a little bit more about Girl...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented last chapter! ❤️ Your messages, no matter how long or short, give me so much life ❤️❤️❤️

* * *

Kylo quickly showered, hissing in pain from the heat on his wound, and yet enjoying the way the warmth soothed his aching muscles from yesterday’s training. They had practiced Soresu for another two hours before Cseenan had lunged at the droids with a wet snarl, slicing them in half and rendering them useless. 

Kylo had almost gone after him with his saber. _Almost._ But he was determined to let the Barabel stew in his duel rejection, so with more mental control than he thought he’d ever have, Kylo had instead hissed for the Knights to practice using the Force to lift the now-destroyed droids up to the ceiling and down to the floor—without letting them touch either surface. One-hundred times. 

He’s very sure that it was only by the strength of their anger that they were able to go as far with it as they did. Tomaxx got to fifty-seven before pushing too hard and slamming the droid to the ceiling, his body collapsing as it crashed to the floor. 

Cseenan had almost dropped his right then and there, his want to check on Tomaxx almost too great to ignore, but had snapped his teeth and kept going all the way to seventy-nine before falling to his knees, eyes dazed and blood dripping from his nostrils.

“Absolutely _worthless,”_ Kylo had spat, pacing stiffly, blood boiling, furiously ashamed of their weaknesses. He would not be so frail.

And so he’d channeled all of the anger and wrath and darkness that he felt, all of the shame, the unfriendly nicknames and unwanted memories, and lifted _both_ droids to show his Knights just how it was done. 

He’d almost stopped at fifty. Almost. Just doing that was impressive enough, showed them what true strength looked like. But no. He needed them to know his power and _be afraid_. 

And so somehow he’d found the endurance to keep going, even as his arm shook, even as his knees felt ready to collapse, even as the pressure in his head reached excruciating levels and blood coated his tongue from clenching his teeth so hard. 

He kept going, and as he reached one-hundred, he screamed in primal rage, throwing the machines down so hard they had exploded. 

The resulting alarm and cleanup meant they could no longer use the training room for the day, but none of them had the strength to go on for longer anyways. Kylo had sent them to the medbay, opting to return to his rooms without seeing a medic; He didn’t want to show just how affected he’d been by his display of raw power. Back in the privacy of his quarters he’d managed to shakily unclothe himself before collapsing on his bed. 

He’s not sure how long he slept for, but the nightmare felt far too long for how little sleep he got.

Having finished showering and dried off, Kylo went to his medical supplies and deftly wrapped his broken and bleeding appendage. After undertaking the act of dressing himself with just one hand—and with limbs so stiff and sore, like he’d been run over by a bantha— he slid on his glove with a wince and a string of curses.   
  
He was partly apprehensive about going to the medbay in case he was turned away with more force this time, because his pride would have him fight it even though his body and head were in agony. But he reasoned that the medic couldn't kick him out if he needed to be fixed too. And in the time it would take them to fix his hand, he'd have a better grasp on where Girl was with her current medical condition and recovery. 

The medbay was quiet when Kylo entered, but the tension in his shoulders and his headache increased tenfold when he saw who was standing beside Girl’s tank.

“General Hux,” he said lowly as he approached, feeling very much like he wanted to push the man away, to hide Girl from his smarmy gaze. “What are you doing?"

The general turned, his pale face made greyish blue and his eyes even more sunken in from the glow of the tank. 

“Well, in addition to a _fire_ in your training room, I’d heard there was a class-C medical emergency on board,” he sneered, “Color me surprised that it ended up being an issue derived from your growing little brood. You and yours do so enjoy causing bedlam on board this ship, Lord Ren.”

“Well we wouldn't want your men becoming complacent, would we?” Kylo bit back. “They're soft enough as it is. At least they’ve got something to do besides sitting around, counting bacta packs all day.”

Hux hummed with a scrunched face. “Hm, But you’ve seen to it that they waste our bacta resources on a _desert rat_.” He held up the datapad with her file and Kylo only just managed to stop himself from snatching it away. 

“Quite a _diseased_ little Junk you've brought aboard, Ren,” Hux mused in his nasally tone. “I'll have to make sure everyone is up-to-date on their vaccines. _And,”_ he lowered his arm, a haughty look on his face that did not bode well. “I hear that in addition to a _peculiar_ lack of _proper clothes_ , the girl was rather bruised up when she was brought in.” 

Kylo squeezed his fists, concentrating on the pain radiating from his right hand as the broken bones strained beneath his glove. 

Hux continued, his voice lowering with a conspiratorial lilt, his smirk twisting the end of his mouth.

“Got a bit too _rough,_ Ren? I had almost believed that you were above such proclivities with that bit of protestation in the training room, but I suppose the chance to rut into something besides your own hand was too great an opportunity to pass up on in the end.”   
  
_“You will not speak to me this way,”_ Kylo thundered, pushing into the general’s space, incensed when the General's smirk only sharpened. 

“The girl is _not_ a sex slave," Kylo declared, hopefully for the last time. “She is not here to service me or my Knights in any way related to such vulgar acts, and you would do well to remember that. Her bruises are from the treatment she received on Jakku by her previous master, and said bruises are still there because your medical droids are apparently _defunct in their programming_ and did not give her the proper medical care she required. So, General Hux, the issue here is not with _me,_ but with _you_ and your _severely lacking medical staff._ ”

Hux’s pursed face puckered even further as his indignation rose. 

“And I suppose the wasted food was the kitchen staff’s fault? And the destroyed unit of droids was engineering’s fault?” The general scoffed, icy eyes sharp. “When will you learn that a _real leader_ takes responsibility for his own mistakes instead of blaming them on everyone else?”

“And when will _you_ learn,” Kylo ground between clenched teeth, feeling the Force swirl around him in a frosty storm, “that poorly chosen words spoken to me have _consequences?”_

Hux gave another haughty look. "We both know you can't do anything to me, Ren. Supreme Leader would flay you alive.”

“And he would do worse to you if he found out how _useless_ your precious army was.” 

“Yes, almost as useless as a man fighting with a laser sword in a world where blaster canons exist.”

Kylo had his saber in his hand and ignited within a heartbeat, the grip sending searing pain up his arm. He used the piercing discomfort to help keep his shaking arm steady as he stood back, lifting the blade and pointing it so that it rested just above Hux’s shoulder, throwing half of his panicked face into shades of red.

“Do you think this is a _TOY?”_

Kylo heard the sound of movement behind him, felt the Force shiver with warning, and turned his head minutely to see a stormtrooper standing a few paces away with his blaster up and pointing at him. 

“General?” The trooper probed, the same one from yesterday it seemed, his voice strong but Kylo could sense a tremor in his stance. 

“Don’t be stupid Ren,” Hux muttered quickly, sweat beading on his ghostly face. “Put that thing down before you accidentally cut someone's head off.”

A different head, a different body, flashed in Kylo's mind, and it took every ounce of his self control and strength not to flinch from it. His arm shook, betraying him, and at Hux's narrowed eyes Kylo thumbed the switch on his saber and lowered his limb before it could give him away anymore. 

His hand throbbed, swelling painfully beneath his glove. He clipped his saber to his belt before he could accidentally drop it from his compromised grip. That would be the ultimate shame.

Hux cursed under his breath, the tension releasing from his ramrod posture. 

“How dare you threaten me like that,” he hissed, smoothing his slicked hair as if checking that none had been burned. “You will answer for this, Ren, mark my words.” 

Kylo scoffed. “Going to tell Supreme Leader that you soiled yourself because I got too close with my _laser sword?”_

_“Soil_ myself—!” Hux spluttered. “ _How dare_ —?!” His face turned a disgusting shade of puce as he fell into something of an apoplectic fit. And then, straightening his uniform with jerking motions, he pivoted to leave without another word, tossing the datapad on a table as he went. 

Kylo took in a deep breath when the general was gone, letting it out slowly, trying to release the tension in his shoulders, trying to breathe out the lingering image in his head. He clenched his fists, suppressed a groan, and tried to use the pain clear out his mind. But with his headache and exhaustion it was difficult, and he could still see the body and head of—

He turned to the trooper, stepping towards him with as much threat as possible. 

“The next time you point that thing at me,” he snarled, “will be the last time you hold a blaster. You’ll be mopping floors for the rest of your useless life if I have any say in it.”

The trooper stiffened, his gloves creaking as he tightened his grip on the blaster. It was held at rest, but Kylo knew the soldier wanted to bring it back up, if only to give himself a false sense of security by being behind the trigger. 

But a blaster was childsplay for someone as powerful as Kylo. Even compromised as he was right now, he could stop the shot with his mind. He could ricochet it right back to sender with the flick of his blade. They both knew this. And if the trooper didn’t know it, well, he’d definitely find out. 

Kylo turned away without giving him a chance to reply with anything and went to the bacta tank, eyes searching for anything out of place that showed Hux’s possible ulterior motives—searching also for any evidence that Girl had been ripped into by teeth and claws. There was nothing different or wrong that he could detect, however, and she was still floating peacefully in her watery coffin, her blue cage, so he let himself relax a fraction. 

Kylo breathed, slowly, closing his eyes and reaching out in the Force through his pains, shoving those dark memories to the back of his mind. Girl’s small flame felt stronger today, even though her vitals appeared more or less the same as yesterday. It was a small boon in an otherwise bleak situation, especially since she evidently showed no signs of waking up yet.

“I ought to have the trooper throw you out,” the medic muttered as he approached on quick steps, his expression one of outrage. “Especially threatening the General that way.”

Kylo took off his glove and held up his throbbing hand. “I need medical treatment.” He looked at the medic. "Are you going to ignore your oath to heal, just to spite me?” 

The medic exhaled a put-upon sigh out of his nose, his eyes flickering to the hand and back to Kylo’s visor. 

“Well, since the staff apparently don't know how to do their jobs, I suppose one of our _defunct droids_ will have to do,” he said with no small amount of snark, and turned away to alert the proper medidroid. 

Kylo rolled his eyes while lowering his hand. The First Order was such a touchy group. They really needed to weed out their officers better, because if they were reacting so badly to (mostly empty) threats from Kylo, how would they be in a real crisis when the war began? They were too soft. Too weak.

“Doctor,” he called, and the medical officer stopped and half-turned back, scowling. 

“Why isn’t she awake?” Kylo asked, the thought having been biting away too much at his mind. “Is this length of rest normal?” 

The doctor looked over at Girl with a clinical eye. 

“No, normally she would have woken up by now,” he said, and Kylo stiffened, wondering if his dream had been an omen, telling him that she was good as dead and there was nothing he could do about it—

“But she has shown normal brain function,” continued the medic, loosening some of Kylo’s tension. “Even moments of near-consciousness, so…” he pursed his lips as he thought. “I wouldn’t worry. Her brain and body are exhausted from healing. In my professional opinion, the longer she can stay in the bacta, the shorter her recovery time will be, and the better. But she’s not comatose, if that’s what you’re worried about. There’s been too much brain activity for her to stay this way for any worrying length of time. She’ll wake up.” 

Kylo nodded, accepting the news as good even though there was still a big ‘if’ hidden amongst the words. He would believe that she was not comatose when he could see her standing before him again. 

The medic took his nod as a dismissal and left on brisk feet. When the medidroid wheeled over and beeped for him to follow, Kylo went, grabbing the discarded datapad with Girl’s patient file as he did. 

He had only skimmed it the day she was brought in and yesterday he was pushed out before he could get a closer look at it. Even though the doctor had briefed him on her condition before, there was no doubt that the medics had added more information since then, and Kylo felt it part of his penance to know exactly how bad of a shape Girl was in, especially if it was keeping her unconscious. 

He settled stiffly into an exam chair and relinquished his throbbing limb to the droid, placing the datapad on his lap to flick through with his other hand. 

NAME: J. UNK

SEX: FEM

DOB: N/A  
  
AGE: APPROX. 18 - 20 YR

FO CODE: N/A

SECTOR: N/A

SECTION CHIEF: N/A

COMMD OFFICER: N/A

…  
  
When Kylo’s eyes landed upon ‘J. UNK’, he cursed under his breath. Far from an intentional insult, ‘J. Unk’ was a medical moniker which stood for ‘Janara Unknown,’ the female version of the male ‘Jax Unknown,’ which were names given in official capacity when a person (or corpse) was unidentifiable. 

Colloquially they were referred to as ‘Junk’s, though, and oftentimes it was used on the holonet as a sort of slur with a connotation that revolved around the idea of someone being so unwanted or unremembered that they were nameless and discardable. Worse than trash, basically—They were the lowest of the low, the scummiest dregs of the bottom of the galaxy.

Kylo had thought Hux called her as such because the man was an ass. But it was written here, plain as day. 

Kylo frowned. Girl wasn’t a Junk. She had a name, she had a purpose. And right now it was ‘Girl,’ and she was his servant.   
  
He tried to open the file to edit it, but it was locked. He turned to the medidroid as it finished doing a preliminary scan of his hand.

“This file is outdated,” Kylo told it. “I need it unlocked so I can change it.”

The droid’s photosensor pointed to the datapad and then to him.   
  
<what information needs changed?>  
  
“The patient’s name.”

The droid beeped, focusing back on his hand dismissively. 

<name entry data can only be changed by authorized medical staff or security droid>

Kylo gave a frustrated sigh. He’d have to find a medic when the business with his hand was finished and get them to change it then. He couldn’t see anyone nearby and determined they must be purposely avoiding the area because of him. _Such weakness_ , he thought bitterly. 

He returned to the file, focusing on the only other piece of information he hadn’t been sure of: her age. 

’18 to 20 years old.’

 _So kriffing young_ , he thought. She was around ten years younger than he, if the medic’s estimation was correct. 

She was practically a child.

The thought did not make him feel any better about the situation so he quickly moved on, beginning to scroll past the IMMUNIZATIONS, although the date gave him pause. All three vaccines were dated for her second day aboard the ship—the day he’d come back to her attempting to seduce him.

But…  
  
He scrolled through the side bar to see the possible side effects of the medicines. Fever, tremors, brain fog, nausea, lethargy, vertigo, joint swelling, stiff neck, and on the more lethal side, risk of stroke and partial or full paralysis.  
  
… _Fuck_. 

This explained her flushed look, but not why she hadn’t been wearing her chest wraps. The more he thought about it the more he reasoned that she could have been slightly delirious, perhaps from fever. Maybe she didn’t even know why she’d done it. 

Kylo sighed. These miscommunications and assumptions were getting ridiculous. He was going to force her to use the table to talk to him when she woke up, and she _would_ speak. 

The rest of the file was a detailed description of the situation the medics had come upon in his rooms, what state she’d been in, what they had done to give her aid. Then it listed her symptoms upon arriving in the medbay, how her heart had gone into ventricular fibrillation— a type of cardiac arrest— and how long it had lasted. Medically she’d been basically dead for almost five minutes before they’d restarted her normal heart rhythm.  
  
And then it went into things they must have scanned her for after putting her in the bacta tank. The bruising on her body was visually obvious, but the bruises were apparently deep. _Bone-deep._ And aside from that, her right ulna and a few ribs showed signs of old breakage that had healed haphazardly, as well as her skull. The medic noted that they showed warping and growth that indicated she’d been in her early childhood when the injuries had probably occurred. 

As much as Kylo wanted to believe she had hurt herself being a normal rough-housing youngster, the reality was probably much starker and it painted a picture that made Kylo feel conflicted. 

He was angry on her behalf that she’d received such treatment as a child, and yet he knew how pain and suffering helped fuel the Dark side of the Force. If she could learn how to harness the power of her past suffering, she could become incredibly strong. A small part of him was almost envious of the potential power she had at her fingertips, but Kylo also knew where his own Dark strength came from. He had plenty of dark feelings and memories to draw from himself.

Kylo flinched as the droid dug a bit too deep into his hand to realign the bones of his knuckles. He gave a humorless smile behind his mask, letting the pain fill his mind, let it bolster his connection with the Dark Side. It was intoxicating, this kind of feeling. 

He had read about Sith Lords of old who had deliberately practiced self flagellation in order to obtain higher power. It was something Kylo had always shunned, believing it to be too risky for the power gained. If you hurt yourself too badly, you ran the risk of making yourself weaker from the pain, not stronger. 

But it was still tempting sometimes. 

And with his current pain levels in his hand and head, the Dark Side was like a brewing storm around him; thick with potential destructive power. How anyone could shy from such power was beyond him. He felt like he could do anything. 

It took only another twenty minutes or so before the droid was done with his hand, applying bacta and a stiff bandage to hold it until tomorrow when it would be dissolved and the damage healed. 

Kylo looked at the appendage with a critical eye. If Girl had received medical treatment like this for her injuries when she was younger, the only evidence of such abuse would be in her mind. He thought back to her bared skin, to the small scars he’d seen—but none that indicated the severe abuse her scans showed. Kylo wondered how many invisible wounds she carried. Countless, perhaps. 

Yes, there was much Dark potential in her. 

Too bad he couldn’t help her harvest it yet.

Kylo got up, securing his glove back on as gingerly as possible to preserve the droid’s work, and then went to find a medic.

He spotted one— the younger one from his rooms before—and cornered him as he stood doing inventory on a medicine locker. 

“I need to change something on this file,” Kylo told him tersely. “The patient name.”

The medic glanced down at it with a pinched brow, and then it smoothed out with understanding.  
  
“Ah, the Junk.” He shook his head while Kylo silently bristled at the word. “I’m sorry, Lord Ren, I won’t be able to do it. She’s not in the system yet. You’ll have to see a security droid and enter her information in there first.”

Kylo scowled, his head aching again. “You can’t change a simple name entry?”

“I could if she was in the system, Milord. I’m sorry, I can’t help you with it until then.”

The medic was uneasy, and Kylo could sense that the trooper was still nearby, watching, waiting. He quickly realized that this wasn’t something his usual intimidation tactics could fix, especially if it involved the main ship systems. 

_The kriffing bureaucracy of this place is worse than the Galactic Republic_ , he thought angrily.

“Fine,” he growled, turning stiffly. 

He should have let L6 enter her into the system before. Another bad decision. Another mistake. 

Another failure.

Kylo felt like for every mistake he tried to fix in regards to Girl, two more popped up to spite him. It felt like he was going to suffocate beneath a pile of inadequacy of his own making at some point soon. 

At this rate he was never going to make things right.

As he stormed by Girl towards the door he felt something, a tiny tremor, like a single leaf moving on the ghost of a breeze, and it made him pause and look down at her.

If she wasn’t obviously unconscious he could almost believe she’d just reached out to him through the Force. But her eyes were closed, her body floating lax, and as he laid his hand on the transparisteel and extended his senses to touch her mind, he found only murky static— 

_Wait._

There it was again.

The faintest brush of something, right against where his senses hovered over her. Not quite deliberate, but still there— Like a sigh from someone standing right behind him. And in the same way, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Kylo could feel gooseflesh prickle along his skin. 

She was definitely doing something, but whether she was aware of it or not was the question. 

Kylo’s brow furrowed. _What a curious creature you are_ , he thought. He was tempted to stay and see if she’d do it again, if his presence alone was enough to get activity from her subconscious mind. But he had things to do, and he was not going to put them off anymore, especially concerning her. 

So with a parting touch against Girl’s mind, he retreated back into himself and then turned to leave. He needed to find a security droid. 

It was time to officially claim her. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhoho....Has Master Kylo finally decided to man up and claim his Slave Rey?! 🤩😁✨  
> Unfortunately it is only in the bureaucratic sense and not in the biblical sense 😜  
> Baby steps, guys. We'll get there 😜 😜 😜 e v e n t u a l l y ✨
> 
> Did you guys like the datapad I made 👀 I spent probably too much time on it 😂😂😂 But I was too inspired not to do it. I love making stuff like this for my stories ✨❤️ I'll eventually post the readable English one on my Tumblr. 
> 
> And
> 
> Good news! My schools are closing from April 25th to May 6th, so I'm gonna have hella time to write again for about a week and a half 🤩  
> Not-so-great-news: I still have school this week and I have quite a lot of classes I have to prepare lessons for, so the next chapter will be posted this Saturday, April 25th, 10pm Japan time. ***IF I am able to post it earlier, I will make an announcement on my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/veggieheist). This is also true if I have to push the posting date back for whatever terrible reason***
> 
> Next Chapter: Kylo officially claims Girl, and there's a confrontation with Tomaxx....


	27. Claiming KR02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo officially claims Girl, and has a confrontation with Tomaxx....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys enjoyed the datapad from last chapter! I made another thing for this chapter too :D

* * *

  
Things were beginning to feel more real for Rey— Sensations and sounds and light. She could feel a current around her, gentle, like wind, but _heavy._ Her hair floated about her head, tickling her face, tickling her neck. Distantly, though. She knew she was feeling it, but it was like it was happening to another Rey.

Sometimes there was a bluish glow that permeated the black, but Rey shied from it. Shied from it all. She didn’t want to feel anything. She didn’t want to see anything. She just wanted to stay here, floating in this dark, warm place. 

She pulled herself inwards, away from it all. She wasn’t ready to face it yet. 

* * *

She dreamed of the lonely island, jutting out from the cold sea. She hadn’t thought or dreamt of it in forever it seemed, so it was a nostalgic relief to see it again. It felt more real this time too, but Rey didn’t shy from it. She wanted to get closer. She wanted to explore it.

There was a whispering on the wind, but she didn’t recognize the voices and she couldn’t understand the words. It beckoned her, though. She wanted to see where it would lead her, she wanted to hear what it had to say. She floated closer to the island, closer than she’s ever gone before. She could almost feel the cold spray of the crashing waves, could almost taste the moisture on the wind. 

But then she felt the ghostly echo of pain from somewhere far away. It made her frown in worry. Where was this feeling coming from? She almost ignored it, almost continued towards the rocks so close now. But another echo of pain vibrated the bones of her hand, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it. She turned from the island, drifting away from it, drifting back into darkness. 

Someone was hurt. 

And somehow she knew it was the dark thing, the watchful shadow. It was hurting and angry and scared.

She wished she could soothe it, she wished she could understand why it was in pain. 

As it got closer, she reached out, _I’m sorry_. It was not even a thought—just an impression of a feeling from within herself, weak and probably useless. 

The dark thing stopped, hovering so close, closer now. It was _immense._ Rey was frightened of what power it potentially held, but as it curiously pressed down on her she brushed against it again, a reassurance, but also a sort of baring of her neck; she wasn’t a threat. _Please don’t hurt me_.

She had no idea if her nebulous thoughts and feelings were communicating through the hazy fog, but the dark thing’s final touch came across as almost a caress to her mind, and it was moving away now so, _maybe._

But with all the activity, with all the movement, Rey was tired again. 

So once more, Rey slept. 

* * *

  
~~~~OOO*o*OOO~~~~  
  


* * *

  
It didn’t take long for Kylo to find a security droid, but in true bureaucratic fashion entering Girl into the system was no simple feat. 

Kylo had to go back to his rooms for the indentichip he’d been originally given to allow him authorization for all areas of the ship—although with his powers he hardly ever needed it—in order to prove to the droid it was actually himself doing the entering. 

And then after starting the data entry process, he had to go back to the medbay as well for Girl’s patient card—from an authorized medic, who almost refused for security reasons— because the droid wouldn’t look up her patient number itself. 

And then finally, _finally,_ after meandering through the security droid’s several-part authentication system, he was able to start building a file for her.

Like he and the Knights, she would not have a normal First Order code number, which usually consisted of a series of eight letters and numbers. The Knights’ were much more simple, much less complicated. Kylo’s FO code was merely “KR01”, with Tomaxx and Cseenan as “TR02” and “CR03,” respectively. As she was more an extension of Kylo than she was an individual, it made sense to Kylo to continue with the system by assigning Girl “KR02.”

He had continued going through the list after that, changing things as he saw fit. 

SECTOR: Knights of Ren. 

SECTION CHIEF: Kylo Ren. 

COMMAND OFFICER: Kylo Ren. 

CLEARANCE LEVEL: 4 (A big _fuck you_ to Hux on this one. Girl would have access to everywhere with this.) 

POSITION: 

Kylo paused, wondering if ‘slave’ was too inappropriate to input. He quickly realized that, yes, it was, and told the droid “servant” instead. The implication was already there; he didn’t need to emphasize it.   
  
The other information— things about platoons, units, academies, and training corps—were all left blank. He didn’t know if she had any formal education in anything, but it didn’t matter anyways. Her past hardly mattered anymore. Only where she was now, and how she could serve him.

He almost thought he would have to seek out General Hux for final authorization after entering everything when the droid started to make a fuss about the clearance level, to which he stood stiffly thinking, _No fucking way. She’ll just have to officially be a Junk,_ but resigned himself to lowering her clearance level to 3 as a compromise instead.

At that the droid beeped again, letting him know the entry had been completed and accepted, and pushed out an identichip for him to take. 

Just like his own indentichip, it lacked the usual holo showing a visual profile of Girl, but he figured it could easily be added if it ever became an issue. It couldn’t be added now because she was still in the bacta tank, but once she was awake and able, they would scan her. 

Kylo held the small unassuming chip in his palm, and suddenly the momentousness of the situation threatened to overwhelm him. 

Girl was officially his now—at least in the eyes of the First Order, but that would be universal soon once they took over the galaxy. 

She was _his._ His slave, his servant.

And now it felt even more impertinent that he figure out what exactly her role as his servant entailed. It also meant that she needed to be oriented completely into the functions of the ship, the First Order, and most importantly, the Knights of Ren. She may not be a Knight—yet—but she was catalogued as part of their enclave. Her actions would affect them, just as theirs would affect her. 

She needed to learn the rules. _Kylo’s rules,_ especially. 

With the fresh indentichip in hand, Kylo marched back to the medbay to change her patient file to reflect the new information. 

As the chip was inserted and the information automatically updated, the medic frowned. 

“I think there’s been a mistake, Milord.”

Kylo turned from where he’d been looking down at Girl, floating in her tank. 

“Where?”

The medic showed him the datapad. “The droid seems to have put her gender as her name.”

“It’s not a mistake,” Kylo said dismissively, feeling defensive. “Her name is Girl.”

“Ah. Of course, sir,” the man said quickly after a pause, smoothing his features to hide the puzzlement he felt.   
  
And then the file finished uploading, the chip was handed back to him, and it was done—doubly so now. 

Kylo never realized how it would make him feel to officially claim her, otherwise he probably would have done it sooner. He felt another wave of anger at himself for being so weak, so indecisive earlier. There was a sense of power he felt knowing that her life belonged to him now, but also something that almost felt like—

_A young boy looked in wonder at the small furry creature, curled up in a cage._

_“…It’s mine?”_

_“Sure is, son.”_

_The woman folded her arms, frowning. “I still think this is a bad idea, Han.”_

_“Aw, c’mon sweetheart,” the man placated with a hand on her back. “What’s the worst that could happen?”_

_She gave him a sardonic look. “I end up with the pet that’s supposed to be Ben’s because he stops caring for it and you go off in the Falcon again, like you usually do when it comes time to be an actual parent.”_

_The man’s smile tensed, teeth bared in a mirthless grin. “Gee, I’m sorry, here I am trying to do something nice for my kid, and you’re making me out to be the bad guy again.”_

_“No, you know that’s not—“_

_He threw his hands up, turning away. “—Can’t do anything right around here—“_

Kylo shook the memory from his head with a silent snarl. _No._ Girl was not a _kriffing pet_. She wasn’t a gifted loth-cat from an apologetic but still frequently absent father. 

She may be a slave, but she was a person. A Force-sensitive. 

Kylo placed his hand on the transparisteel, looking for that brush of sense, that tentative touch from her, but she was quiet and still. He questioned whether what he had felt from her earlier had been real or imagined. But there definitely was something happening, something shifting in the Force, and he knew it was because of her. 

What did it mean? 

He didn’t know, but he had a feeling that if he waited long enough, the truth would be revealed to him in time.   
  


* * *

  
Kylo arrived at the Situation room, somewhat surprised to see Tomaxx already there but not surprised that Cseenan was absent. 

“Where is Cseenan?” He asked gruffly, his mood souring.

Tomaxx shrugged, not looking away from his work. When Kylo tensed in affront at the casual disrespect, the Knight quietly said, “Probably in his room.”

If Cseenan was going to wallow like a coward, then so be it. Although it annoyed Kylo that the Knight was skirting his research duties, he didn’t want to see or be near the Barabel just yet. 

He placed Girl’s indentichip on the holo table before sitting down. 

“It’s official.”

The Chiss was wearing his mask, so Kylo kept his on as well. He didn’t care to be the only one showing his face. Even though he could order Tomaxx to take it off, he did not want to be seen, to be readable. So, masks they would wear. 

Tomaxx’s head turned only slightly to look at the indentichip. “…KR02?” 

“She’s a slave,” Kylo droned, tucking the indentichip into his belt before opening the files on his datapad that he had been searching before. “Her personhood relies on mine.”

“Of course,” Tomaxx murmured, turning back to his reading. 

They worked in tense silence for a few minutes before the Chiss spoke up. 

“I took another walk last night,” he said quietly, nonchalantly flipping through holos of temples on Phu. “They’re calling her a Junk.”

Kylo sighed, wishing he could press his knuckles to his brow to alleviate his headache. 

“I am aware. I’ve taken steps to mitigate it.”

Tomaxx continued looking through the holos. “If I’ve heard it about the ship, then it’s probably too late.”

Kylo clenched his fists, breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly. The name would fade. If he heard it said in his vicinity he would make an example of whoever uttered it, and it _would fade_. 

The Chiss continued after a long pause. “There was also talk of her condition when she was put into the tank.”

Kylo unclenched his teeth. “What of it?” 

Tomaxx finally turned to him, a tenseness and a hesitancy to him.

“…Master, I have never questioned you, nor your discipline. Truly, you are an inspiration. But, perhaps, as all men do in their time, you may have…been made to falter.”

“What are you implying,” Kylo said, voice deep with warning.

“She had bruises, and no underwear.”

Kylo felt his whole body tremble from the strength it took to remain calm, feeling that Tomaxx was holding something back and knowing what it was all the same. 

“And what else?” He growled.

“…And I think we both know what the crew has managed to come up with from that.”

Kylo tilted his head, his words sharp. “And what do _you_ think, Tomaxx?”

The Knight shook his head. “What I think doesn’t matter.”

_No,_ this was exactly what Kylo _did not want_. 

“Tomaxx Ren, you _will_ tell me,” he commanded lowly. 

The Chiss was quiet, thinking, analyzing. And then with a resigned air, he spoke. 

“I know you are disciplined and strong in your commitments to the Way of Ren as you have made it, but I also know that you were not so chaste before. Perhaps your control has slipped now that temptation has made itself known to you again.”

“ _My control has slipped?”_ Kylo stood, fists clenching. “No, my control is as stalwart as ever. That you would accuse me of this…of _rape—“_ He wanted to punch something. He wanted to run his saber through the holotable. He wanted to—

_“Enough_ of this,” he hissed. “The amount of times I have been accused of this within six days time has worn my patience out. I will not continue to be insulted thusly, and I will not repeat myself again. If you truly think that I would do such a thing, that I would betray everything that this order stands for— _as I have made it_ —then perhaps you don’t know me at all—“

Tomaxx stood as well. “Master, I don’t care if you raped her; She’s just a slave. But if you have, if you’ve fallen victim to such urges, then I must implore you not to keep her. She will only tempt you again.”

Kylo barged into Tomaxx’s space, incensed when the Chiss barely stepped back.

“She is NOT ‘just a slave,’ and I DID NOT RAPE HER.”

“Then—“

There was a sound, like someone clearing their throat, and both lords turned tensely to where it came from. 

Officer Mari Vines stood in the doorway, looking very much like she both wished she were not there, and like she wished to hear more. 

“Pardon the intrusion, Lord Ren, but there is a transmission waiting for you.”

“I’ll take it later,” Kylo growled through clenched teeth, embarrassed to have been caught so upset—especially with one of his Knights, and especially about this particular subject matter.

“It’s from the Supreme Leader, sir,” she said. 

Kylo felt his stomach drop.

_Fuck._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh roh 😬
> 
> Tensions are rising....
> 
> So in addition to the identichip, I also added an illustration at the end of Chapter 18 of Rey looking through the viewport at the Sun :D Feel free to go check it out! I'm not so great at digital drawing of normal people (I'm much better at monsters), but I'm content with how it turned out :) 
> 
> Next Chapter: Snoke is Not Happy, Kylo is also Not Happy, and tensions keep rising as the clock keeps ticking.....
> 
> Posting date: so since I can 'work from home' next week, I will have tons of time to write :D So let's have the next posting day be Wednesday, April 29th at 8PM.


	28. Blood from a Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gets scolded by Snoke, and decides that new measures must be taken to obtain the map, and tensions rise....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments for last chapter!! ❤️❤️ I luv u gaiz ❤️❤️

* * *

  
Dread dogged Kylo’s steps as he headed for the special conference room to take Leader Snoke’s transmission. Did Hux say something? Kylo realized there was quite a number of things the general could use against him in terms of turning the Supreme Leader’s anger on him, and it made his dread swell. He paused outside the door, breathing deeply, trying to tamp down any emotions, trying to clear his mind, to find balance. 

He couldn’t leave Snoke waiting for long, though, or his master would become impatient. Would begin to suspect something. 

So Kylo entered, shutting out all thoughts and feelings as the door shut behind him, taking a knee as Snoke’s holo materialized large and looming above in the room. 

“Supreme Leader,” he greeting lowly. 

“I have not heard any updates recently,” the dark master began, voice deep and rasping. “I wondered what my apprentice has been doing.” There was a warning, a threat beneath the casualness of his words. 

Kylo took a steadying breath, imagining himself as a stone—cold, unfeeling, and immovable. He needed to be careful with his words, because if Hux had said one thing, he reported another, and Snoke caught him in a lie, the consequences would be _unfathomable._

“Tomaxx Ren and Cseenan Ren found information leading to three possible planets where the Resistance might be hiding a base,” he began. “When we find where it is, we will rip any relevant information from their databanks to aid the First Order in the destruction of—“

“Nevermind that,” Snoke snapped. “What of the map piece, What of Skywalker’s whereabouts?”

The Dark apprentice nodded, distantly aware of sweat prickling his skin. 

“We are conducting research to better pinpoint the areas where the Rebel base could be. Once we start canvassing the planets and find the base, it will only be a matter of time before we find the map.”

“You seemed so much closer to acquiring the map a week ago,” the holo growled. “I hope the recent addition to your group has not caused you to be delayed.” 

_A rock, unmoving in a riverbed. Ice cold. Steady. No thoughts. No reaction. No feelings._

“No, Supreme Leader,” Kylo said, willing his heart to be stable and his voice to be firm. “The slave girl is in the medbay for treatment of injuries she received on Jakku. She’s hardly been a distraction. I am still looking for the map and training my Knights. I am still faithful to your teachings and to the Way of Ren.”

Kylo kept himself from reacting as he felt the searing tendrils of Snoke’s power wheedling into the surface of his mind. Even from so great a distance, the powerful Master was able to penetrate Kylo’s mental defenses with ease—even though Kylo wouldn’t dare try to keep him out. 

“Hmmm.” The Supreme Leader looked unimpressed, but not wrathful the way he would have if Hux had told him differently. Perhaps the general hadn’t said anything. That almost made Kylo even more nervous, but he tamped it down. Snoke continued speaking, his lips curling disapprovingly. 

“Something has weakened you. I sense an imbalance in you now.”

 _A rock. Unyielding. Unfeeling._  
  
“I am only anxious to find the map, Supreme Leader,” Kylo assured. “I can feel that it is close. I wish to end the Jedi once and for all, but it continues to elude me.”

“You are frustrated.” The deformed face twitched into some resemblance of a smirk. “Good. Let it give you strength and focus. But you must not let it cloud your mind or you will fail, _again.”_   
  
Kylo grit his teeth, fisted his hands, let the pain from his still-healing knuckles fill his mind and heart with darkness, smothering the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to rise. 

“I will not fail again,” he muttered tensely, and looked up. “I swear it.”

“I know you will not,” Snoke growled, his ruined cheek pulsing. “Because if you do, there will be no words to describe how disappointed I will be. You will know it, though. Oh, _you will know it.”_

Yes, he would. Kylo had felt Snoke’s disappointment before—Many times. It was a thing of blistering electricity and blinding agony. 

“I understand, Supreme Leader,” Kylo muttered. 

“Hm,” the Dark master pondered with a sneer. “We shall see, _young master_. I hope this weakness I sense in you does not linger, or am I to help rid you of it? Am I to train your Knights, as well?”

“No, I will overcome it myself,” Kylo promised, thinking of stones, thinking of rocks, but then suddenly there was a rock he saw in his mind, splattered in blood beside a body—

“Do not make me wait for updates again, Kylo,” Snoke warned darkly. 

“My apologies, Supreme Leader,” Kylo rasped, clenching his fists, trying to find strength, trying to find clarity from the ache. “I will keep you abreast our progress as frequently as we go.”

“Good. I want that map found. The sooner the better, for your sake.”

The threatening holo faded off before Kylo could reply, and as soon as he felt Snoke’s influence leave the edges of his mind, he let the tension out of his back, slumping with one hand to the floor. 

He breathed, deeply, shoving bloodied stones and rocks to a dark corner of his mind and focusing on being like the icy water, cold and unfeeling, unstoppable and cleansing, and then he stood, gripping his fist again to punish himself for his weakness, for being so apparently compromised that both Darth Vader and Supreme Leader had noticed it. 

He almost wanted to punch the wall again, but he didn’t want to have to go back to the medbay, and he would not lose control, he would not show weakness like that again. He would be strong. He would be in control. 

_Discipline and routine._

He would snuff out whatever imbalance Snoke had sensed, he would not allow it to linger anymore.   
  
This nonsense with Cseenan would be put aside; they needed to find the map. They needed to find it _yesterday._ Whatever information on Phu they had managed to come up with, it would have to be enough for a canvass. Kylo would send Tomaxx and Cseenan to the planet as soon as tomorrow.

Decision made, anger set, and mind cleared, Kylo left for the Situation Room again. It was time to move forward.  
  


* * *

  
Kylo commed Cseenan to come join them, not leaving any room in his command for dissent. When he reentered the room, Tomaxx stood from his seat.

“Master—“

Kylo gave a slicing wave of his hand, silencing him. Their previous argument would be shelved--indefinitely, if he could help it-- although Kylo would not be forgetting that his apprentice had accused him of _breaking his own rules_.

“What information do you have on Phu?” He asked tersely.

Tomaxx looked down at the various datapads strewn about the holotable. 

“Some details about blackmarkets, smugglers, hidden compounds for gangs and such. Nothing about the Rebels though.” He looked up. “What did Supreme Leader want?”

“He is dissatisfied with the pace of our mission,” Kylo hissed. “As am I. Once Cseenan arrives, we will all be focusing on gathering enough intel on Phu for groundwork tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Tomaxx shook his head. “Master, we do not have enough intel. We wouldn’t know where to start.”

“What’s the point of _all of this_ ,” Kylo thundered, arms spread out at all of the holos and files, “if we aren’t able to even find a place to _start?”_

Tomaxx was silent, staring at Kylo from behind his mask. 

“My apologies, Master,” the Chiss said quietly. “We will—“

“Save it.” Kylo snapped. “I’m sick of empty apologetic platitudes. Just get it done.”

He sat back in his seat stiffly, pulling a datapad and reading through the information Tomaxx had already organized, cataloguing how much had been done already and how much needed to be done before tomorrow. 

They would likely be there the rest of the day, and into the night. But it _would_ get done. 

Cseenan arrived a few minutes later, masked and throwing off waves of irritation. 

“Master,” he greeted with a low growl, his claws clicking. 

“Sit,” Kylo commanded sharply. “You and Tomaxx are going to Phu tomorrow. Whatever info you can gather until then, be efficient in it. Leader Snoke wants the map.”

“Tomorrow?” The Barabel rasped, exchanging a hidden look with Tomaxx. 

_“Yes,”_ Kylo hissed. “So whatever you need to get the job done, gather it now.”

Cseenan bristled silently, looking like he wanted to argue, but only gave a shallow nod.   
  
“Yes, Master.”

Kylo could sense an imbalance brewing in the Knight, but Cseenan would just have to deal with it on his own. Kylo did not have time for it. 

They researched and added to the main file for hours, but Phu was a large planet with many population centers. There were a thousand different places where a Rebel base could be hidden, and probably hundreds more places that were buried even more than that—places they wouldn’t know of unless they went there and found out about them from pounding the pavement. 

Normally this type of research was done over the course of several weeks, and groundwork done for about the same length of time, but Kylo was wary of angering Snoke. He did not want to jeopardize his Knights, nor his claim of Girl.

If Snoke found out about all of the chaos from the past several days, the punishment would be _severe._ Kylo needed to fix this, he needed it to be as if everything had been going smoothly since coming back from Jakku. They needed to pick up a new lead.

It felt as if they were moving at a walking pace when they needed to be going light-speed though. More than once Kylo found himself snapping at Cseenan to quit fidgeting and work, as the Barabel’s attention span whittled down and his agitation grew at the lack of physical action. He was normally not so distracted, normally he could sit and work for a couple of hours before excusing himself to run amok in the training room for an hour before returning to more bookwork. But there were no training breaks today, and his irritation from before was only exacerbating his short attention span.

And it was annoying Kylo to no end, frustrated as he was with the slow pace and with Snoke’s scolding ringing in the back of his mind. Add to it his disappointment in his own ineptitudes, and the atmosphere was becoming even more toxic than it had been the day before. 

Finally, around dinner, after they’d been working through all other meals without any breaks, the Barabel stood stiffly.

“Master,” he rasped, “Cseenan needs food.” 

Kylo froze, and then looked up slowly. 

He hated when the Knight spoke in third person. It was normal for Barabels— just another peculiar thing about their use of language. But it had been a long time since the Knight had used it, and Kylo did not like to remember how things had been during that time when it had been a frequent part of the Barabel’s speech. It reminded him of too many things—the worst kind of nostalgia. It felt like more and more lately he was to be constantly forced to think of those times. He was growing weary of pushing things to the dark recesses of his mind, where they belonged.

Even Tomaxx seemed surprised by the sudden lack of pronoun. Surprised and alarmed. Perhaps he, too, was remembering that period fraught with unrest.

“Master,” the Chiss began cautiously, “I think it might be wise to break for dinner. We can continue afterwards.”

Kylo continued looking at his datapad. “We’ve all gone a day without meals before,” he growled. “This is too important; we don’t have time for breaks.”

Wordlessly Cseenan sat back down after a long moment, his claws gouging into the edge of the metal table where he gripped it, but he didn’t otherwise react. He just sat, still as a statue, staring with dangerous intensity down at the datapad in front of him.

Kylo resumed his reading, opting not to pay any mind to the Barabel. Either he would snap out of his sulking, or he wouldn’t. But Kylo was done babysitting him. Whatever intel the Knights found would be what they ended up working with, so if they ended up lacking something while on Phu, it would be their fault for not working to acquire it.

Tomaxx was looking at Cseenan for a long moment, perhaps trying to read him. They had worked together on missions long enough that they had developed an almost secret way of communicating without words. Sometimes Kylo was jealous of them for it, but he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. He could command them to divulge their secrets, but Kylo would not reveal his feelings about it so blatantly. 

Apparently Cseenan was closed off to Tomaxx as well by the way the Chiss returned to his own work, waves of frustrated resignation emitting from him. He was normally better at tamping down his emotions, but evidently even his infamous control was slipping. 

It was many hours later, well into the part of the ship’s cycle that they would have been asleep, that the Barabel wordlessly got up again, handed his datapad to Tomaxx, and silently left.

Kylo almost ordered him back, but his temper was short enough that he immediately didn’t care. _Let him flounder on Phu, then,_ he thought bitterly. 

It was barely twenty minutes later that Tomaxx sat back with an exasperated sigh.

“Master,” he said sternly. “We cannot go to Phu tomorrow.”

Kylo shook his head. “We need to find the map. We need to find Skywalker.” 

“Even if we went to Phu,” Tomaxx argued, “if we aren’t careful about where we start we could tip the rebels off and lose them. We need more time—“

“There is _no more time_ , Tomaxx Ren,” Kylo hissed. “So what do you propose we do?”

The Chiss took in a breath, letting it out slowly. 

“If you had followed the lead on Jakku, we would have a better starting point,” he contended, making Kylo’s hackles rise in defense. Kylo took a breath to angrily retort but the Chiss continued. 

“Let me and Cseenan go back to Jakku and finish following it. It might give us a better direction—a more concise starting point.”

Kylo paused, holding himself back from declining the idea outright. They already had all of the intel and details needed for the desert planet. They already knew where to look and what to look for. There were only so many inhabited locations on the planet anyways, and they knew of all of the smaller nomadic tribes dotted about the surface. 

Going to Jakku and picking up the trail from there was a better idea than starting blind on Phu.

And perhaps his Knights would succeed where he had so obviously failed. 

Tomaxx continued, sensing the consideration from his master. 

“We would be gone for far less time as well. Starting fresh on Phu would require at least a week of groundwork to make any headway. For Jakku, we could be there and back within two days.”

Kylo thought deeply, looking at the angles, calculating the risks, and then gave a short nod.   
  
“That might work,” he mused. “There was an old nomad I had meant to interrogate—he could have the map piece, or know where it went.”

Kylo saved his current file and closed it to open up the one they had created on Jakku. Tomaxx began doing the same for his own datapads and section of the holotable. 

“It’s only been a week, so there’s a chance that when I left having only visited Niima Outpost they merely buried the map planet-side somewhere.”

The Knight nodded. “Right, and if I can find a thought-pattern cluster we might be able to track down where it went.”

Not just useful during his ‘walks’ about the ship, Tomaxx’s ability to sift through open minds was a boon in their intelligence gathering work as well. All it took was a strategically placed word in a crowd, and the Chiss could detect if anyone had important information as it sprang unbidden to the front of their minds, triggered like a trap. 

Yes, this could work. They could find the lead again. And it would prove that snatching Girl had not been a mistake in that regard. 

_This could work._

* * *

  
It was after several more hours of re-acquainting themselves with the information on Jakku that they finally called it and headed back to their respective quarters for sleep. Tomaxx needed it most of all if he was going to be in good enough shape to be efficient in his work.

Kylo had more nightmarish dreams, although they were fuzzy and warped— he was on a starship, but there were also mirages of sand and dead trees and bloodied rocks, and it was all so muddled and fragmented, like being in a horrific, staticky kaleidoscope. 

He woke up with a pounding headache that not even a hot shower could alleviate, but he dressed and headed to the Situation room to see Tomaxx and Cseenan off. 

The Barabel was not happy upon being updated about the mission.

“We’re not going to Phu?” He rasped.

“No,” Kylo said. “You’re going to Jakku.”

Cseenan stiffened, his scales shifting tremulously as he tried to control himself. 

“Then why did we slum away on the readings for Phu, all-time yesterday? With no food?”

“The plan has changed, Cseenan,” Tomaxx told him as he finished downloading the pertinent files to his handheld comm device. “Remember, ‘blessed is the flexible claw, for it shall not be broken—“  
  
“I _know,”_ Cseenan barked, snarling and baring his teeth at the Chiss, who tensed. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a _hatchling._ I’m not _stupid.”_

“Of course not,” muttered Tomaxx. “The issue isn’t your intelligence, it’s your lack of flexibility.”

Cseenan growled, his scales rippling. He glared at the blue Knight and then with an angry chuff, turned abruptly and began stalking away. 

“Where are you going?” Kylo called after him tersely.

“To ready the _fucking ship_ ,” the Barabel snarled over his shoulder. “What do you _think_ Cseenan is doing?”

Kylo wanted to admonish him for his disrespectful tone, but found it to be a battle better not even started. He turned to Tomaxx.

“Do not let him out of your sight on Jakku. His current mood will probably jeopardize the mission if he’s left to his own devices.”

“I wonder what could have set him off,” the Chiss mumbled.

Kylo fisted his hands at his side, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw to keep himself from doing or saying something to the Knight out of anger that he would regret later. 

Tomaxx must have sensed his master’s flare of displeasure and gave a quiet sigh. 

“I will watch over him and keep him from making trouble. But I wonder if it might just be better for him to stay here while I go myself.”

“No,” Kylo said sternly. “I don’t think it would be wise for you to go alone. Besides, perhaps groundwork will help sharpen his focus and remind him what our goal is.”

Tomaxx nodded but it felt thoughtful. 

“Perhaps this could be a good time for us all to remember it,” he murmured. 

Kylo peered at him but didn’t comment on it, choosing instead to tell the Knight to keep him updated on their progress and anything they find out, before dismissing him and walking away. 

He did not need to be reminded of how important this mission was. He had been wanting Luke Skywalker dead for longer than anyone. Darth Vader did not give this task to anyone else—just him. It was Kylo who was charged with finally ending the Jedi. Out of anyone in the galaxy, it was his mission most of all.

He knew deep in his bones that this was his purpose in life. 

It was his _destiny._

* * *

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the power of their three singular brain cells, Kylo Ren, Tomaxx Ren, and Cseenan Ren might just be able to come up with a viable plan someday! 😀  
> Skywalker doesn't stand a chance!  
> 😂😂😂
> 
> Tensions be Rising indeed.....
> 
> SO since I've been able to write a tonnn this week, and will also have a lot of time next week, we will probably have two chapter postings a week for the next three weeks 🤩🤩🤩 
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo tries to concentrate on his studies, but something causes him to change focus...  
> Post date: Saturday, May 2nd, 9PM Japan time.


	29. Haunted Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo turns to his Sith studies to pass the time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments! ❤️❤️ I know some of you are anxious to see more Rey--trust me, I am also anxious to get back to her bits of this story-- but, just like how the first twenty chapters were a buildup of Rey and her issues and some backstory, this section is setting up Kylo. Who is he? What makes him tick? What are his traumas, his hopes? How does he relate to others, especially his Knights? These are things I'm exploring and building right now. There is still Reylo stuff happening in the background, and Reylo is of course the endgame (I haven't forgotten, I promise 😜), but I've got an ambitious idea I'm trying to accomplish for Kylo in this current arc. I appreciate any and all patience you can give me while I write this story I have envisioned, which sometimes involves elements outside of strictly Reylo-centered stuff. I promise it will be worth it ❤️
> 
> With that said, you guys are fantastic readers, and I am so humbled and blessed by your comments every time I post 😭😭❤️❤️ Don't feel pressured to write every chapter though, or to write long comments. Even just a bunch of emojis or gifs would brighten my day and let me know that you read and enjoyed the update. We're already stressed by the world being on fire, I would hate to add to that 😕

* * *

  
The Knights left as soon as the ship was fueled up. Kylo saw them off from the hangar, and when they slipped into hyperspace he headed for the Archives room. He needed to continue his study of the Sith texts and holochrons. He needed to find information and guidance.

The Sith had been an incredibly strong and prevalent force in the galaxy before they’d become too bloodthirsty, turned against each other clamoring for power, and almost wiped themselves out. It was from that self-sabotaging time that the Rule of Two came to be, which made sure there was only ever two Sith at one time—one Master, and one Apprentice. It allowed them to remain hidden, growing in power without detection.

Darth Vader and his master Darth Sidious had been the last true Rule of Two Sith—and a more powerful duo there had never been and might never be again. They’d ruled the galaxy together as Emperor Master and Lord Apprentice, and the Sith would have continued ruling and growing in power had the treacherous Luke Skywalker not betrayed his own father. 

Oh yes, Kylo had heard _many_ stories growing up. Stories of how Darth Vader had turned on his master and sacrificed himself to save his son, and thus obtaining redemption. But Kylo knew it was a lie, a trick—Propaganda against the Dark Side and against the Sith. 

Especially after what Luke tried to do to him at the Jedi Temple, Kylo knew that in reality the Jedi master had most likely killed his own father to ‘save the galaxy’ from the Dark Side, and then fabricated the story of redemption to weaken the idea of the Sith. 

Kylo would not be so easily fooled. 

There were many powerful secrets hidden in the Sith texts and holochrons— Theories and practices that had remained hidden from the destructive hands of the Jedi, who no doubt would have been terrified of the potential Dark powers promised had they found the readings. 

Kylo was still studying the Sith language and translating what has been written, but he has learned more about his own potential through the Dark side in the past five years under Snoke than he did the twenty-odd years he’d been trying to keep to the Light side of the Force with his useless family. It was almost like they had been holding him back on purpose— Always telling him to ‘calm down’, to ‘reign it in, kid’, to ‘stop letting yourself lose control.’ 

He knew that his parents had been afraid of him; almost everyone had been by the time he’d been shipped off to Luke. He’d been battling his inner anger, becoming more and more volatile, and it was as if the more he tried to control his powers, the less he could. The futility of it drove him into a cycle of resentfulness and self-hatred—He had hated himself for disappointing his family, and then resented them for making him feel that way. 

Embracing the dark side had felt like finally putting on clothes in his size after being forced to fit into a constricting uniform for too long. The comfort, the ease of movement, the _rightness_ of it, taught him that it wasn’t he who had been the problem, but everyone else telling him to shrink to fit into the confining Light Side mold. 

No, Kylo would not shrink himself anymore. _Never_ again. Now he was expanding, growing, pushing out further and further, breaking every boundary and not looking back. He had found a place in the galaxy for himself, among people who accepted him, who championed his developments in the Dark Side. 

This anger, this hate, this cold un-feeling, _defined_ him. Made him the powerful Master of Ren that he was. 

So what was this weakness that Supreme Leader and Darth Vader had sensed? Had he, Kylo, somehow regressed in his training? 

He could not allow that. He _would_ not.

Today Kylo would study, he would soak in the Darkness that permeated the Archives room, and he would meditate. It had been over a week since he had spent a day refocusing after Girl had arrived, and while Tomaxx’s words earlier had made Kylo set his teeth on edge, he knew in the end that they were truthful. He needed to keep reminding himself what the goal was, what all of this was for—finding Skywalker and ending the Jedi. There was no other thing, no other objective more important than that. 

He would ignore Girl today and put his trust in the medical corps to alert him if her condition changes. As tempting as it was to go stand beside her tank and experiment with the whispers of Force she was unconsciously throwing out, it would have to wait for another time. 

She’d be around for a while, anyways. There would be time.

Kylo stopped by his quarters to eat breakfast and check the holonet for any important news. His mother’s name was in a headline about some tabloid gossip or another, which prompted him to close out the page with a grimace and finish eating quickly. 

As soon as they had control over the galaxy, Kylo was destroying tabloid news groups. They had done too much damage to him and his family’s legacy already, and they would pay for it. 

Finished with his meal, Kylo picked up his datapad and started unconsciously heading for the lift to go to the medbay but stopped himself with a silent scold, course-correcting for the Archives room. He paused before entering when his comm beeped. 

“Report,” he answered gruffly.

_“We’ve arrived outside Jakku’s orbit,”_ Tomaxx’s voice replied. _“Comms blackout commencing until we’re off-planet again.”_

“Confirmed.”

The comm went silent, and Kylo put it away and entered the Archives room. As it sealed shut behind him he could feel the oppressive dark forces closing in around him, whispering and beckoning him to read the forbidden things that were kept there. He removed his mask again, breathing in the recycled air and smoothing his wayward locks back as he retrieved the text he needed from its hydrophobic case. 

He settled into a chair, opened the translation file on his datapad, and took a deep breath to quiet his mind, to push out all other distractions.  
  
It was time to study.

There were many things in the texts that Kylo deemed either too outdated to be of any use, or too dangerous to even try. The self-flagellation was one such thing, but now Kylo found himself on the opposite end of that particular coin. The section he found himself translating now spoke of using the Dark side to heal wounds, which was something he’d always assumed to be a power reserved for those who worked on the Light side of the Force. 

Evidently not, although he had a feeling that the Jedi were probably not using agony and anger to fuel their healing powers the way the Sith used to. 

There were even Sith who were dealt terminal blows—cut in half, or otherwise grievously injured—who managed to keep themselves alive by channeling the excruciating pain into sustaining their lives. The downside was it was never enough to heal completely, just enough to keep them alive, because as soon as the pain stopped their abilities to heal were also cut off. And so it was never quite enough, and they were left forever in unending torment until they could find actual medical care.

Kylo’s thoughts turned unbidden to Girl. Could this power be used to stave off starvation? Could this have prolonged her health? How long would it take to wither away to skin and bones when you’re using the hunger pains as a means to channel the Force to heal yourself? More likely than not it would have just spread out the suffering, with the same result of ending up in the medbay. 

But for other injuries in the future, such measures could help him and his Knights gain more time to find help in the event any one of them got wounded badly enough and did not have supplies. 

This could be a useful thing to know. 

Kylo returned to his translating with renewed fervor, taking care to check that the grammar was correct and he wasn’t simplifying nuances. He would try to learn this himself before teaching it to his Knights. And someday if it proved fruitful, he’d teach it to Girl.

He briefly considered trying to use the technique to heal her now, but it would require him to use a _substantial_ amount of dark emotions, which sounded a bit drastic considering the circumstances. She was healing just fine on her own, and the medic said she would wake up soon. She was fine.

Kylo frowned. Maybe he should check again, just to be sure. He didn’t like the idea of Hux showing up without his knowledge again, and, he reasoned, he could use the visit to double-check his hand. The pain had mostly gone away but it was stiff. 

Yes, he would go and check on Girl, get his hand looked at, and then come back to finish his research. 

He began gathering the texts to put them back in their cases when he heard a whisper from somewhere behind him. He turned, his hand reaching for his saber, eyes searching the room for any movement. 

All was still.

He closed the case silently and then crept forward, peering down the rows of high shelves and hydrophobic containers, trying to sense if anyone was there. 

Another whisper of sound came from his left, and he unclipped his saber from his belt, holding it tightly. His senses couldn’t pick up anything outside of the immense dark aura emitting from the Sith artifacts, but he definitely heard something. Something that sounded like a sharply whispered, _“Brother.”_

Kylo stalked silently down a row towards the back of the room, but the sudden flickering of the lights brought him to a stop. He watched with tense apprehension as the lights in the room blinked off, one by one, throwing the sealed room into complete, oppressive darkness. 

It didn’t last long as Kylo ignited his saber, the red glow illuminating the area in hues of blood and fire.

“Who’s there?” He growled, tightening his grip, finding within himself the churning sea of power he drew upon in times of battle. There was a ghostly rumble of throaty laughter behind him, and he pivoted and brought his lightsaber up. He looked down the blade with a thundering heart at a dark figure floating beside the center holotable. 

It’s face was hidden in the shadow of it’s wispy cloak, but as Kylo demanded, “Who are you?” It looked up, teeth bared in a crazed grin, blue eyes bright in the crimson glow. Kylo felt his heart seize in his chest, the air constrict in his throat, but he stood his ground, he held his saber steady.

_“Princcceyyyyy,”_ the dark spectral whispered, and then with sharp teeth and sudden claws it lunged forward at Kylo with a hissing snarl. Kylo brought his fiery blade up and slashed down through it with a deep cry, feeling no resistance as the shadow dissolved like smoke at the contact. 

Kylo whirled around, searching with wide eyes, keeping his saber aloft, but the lights flickered back on between one blink and the next, and there was no more sight of the nightmarish figure. 

Panting slightly for several tense moments, Kylo finally lowered his weapon, pressing the switch on the hilt to retract the blade. He tried to clip it to his belt but his grip was bad, his hands shook too much, and his saber dropped to the ground with a loud clatter. 

Kylo grit his teeth, looking around himself once more, tensing for any sound that might betray something trying to attack him again, but there was nothing. He picked up the saber and secured it to his belt with jerking motions, his anger rising.

The Sith holochrons had evidently decided to play tricks on his mind. On his _weakened_ mind. Even they had brought him up and found him wanting, to use his own mind against him like this. 

_So weak._

_So fucking weak._

Nevermind checking on Girl; he needed to go to the training room and run drills. He needed to punish himself, to rid his body of this weakness through pain and hardship. 

Roughly putting on his helmet, Kylo stormed out of the Archives room and started heading to the lift but stopped and turned abruptly for his rooms. His initial idea was to use training droids to practice Soresu forms until he couldn’t stand anymore, but he had a better idea now. And it required a second saber. 

There was another reason he knew he wanted to use the saber he kept locked in a box on his shelves, and it was spiteful. 

He would show who was weak. He would show who was Master here. 

It was from that spite, that wrath and self-targeted scorn, that resulted in him being now in the center of another, larger training room, surrounded by stormtroopers. 

“Are you sure about this, Lord Ren?” Captain Phasma called from the sidelines, her tone more dull with tedium than any show of actual concern. “This is more than your usual fare, especially without your Knights.” 

Kylo merely nodded, igniting both sabers and falling into form. He hadn’t trained with dual sabers in a long, _long_ time, but now was a better time than any. He gladly welcomed the pain from the troopers blaster shots should he miss deflecting them.

“Fine,” she droned. “Don’t kill any of my men.”

He said nothing, just waited, his heart pounding, his skin tingling with anticipation, his mind calculating how many potential shots could come his way in a given moment. 

The chrome Captain gave a monotone, “Fire,” and then the area erupted into a cacophony of blasterfire, Kylo himself a whirl of black robes and swinging swords. 

He started off well, deflecting every blast, trying to ricochet them towards the floor or ceiling so as to not make it more easier on himself by taking out troopers. But after about ten minutes the first blaster shot grazed his thigh, and a few minutes later a shot hit him square in the back, making him stumble and grit his teeth against the stinging pain, just barely blocking four more shots. Another hit him in the shoulder, almost making the limb go numb, and it was at that time that he started sending shots back towards the soldiers, felling them one by one.

His body was screaming in stinging pain by the time the last two soldiers were dropped, but all Kylo wanted to do was command them to stand back up and start again. The pain wasn’t enough. He could still feel weakness in his chest, in the back of his mind. 

He could still think straight, which meant he wasn’t done.

“Alright, Ren,” Phasma called, her arms crossed. “I think that’s enough.”

No, it wasn’t enough. He could still feel the weakness in him; he could still hear that voice, could still see those blue eyes looking at him with crazed, murderous intent—

Kylo turned off the sabers before he did something with them he’d regret, and stalked away, stepping over troopers and leaving their training room without a word. But he would not be going too far—just over to the Knights’ usual training room. It should be cleaned up by now. 

He set up a single hoverdroid with stunner blasts, and then sat himself in the center of the room to try and reach one of the deepest levels of meditation— Floating Meditation, a form that would result in him levitating off the ground. 

He had first just barely accomplished the form while at the Jedi Temple, but now as the powerful Dark side master that he was, it was much easier. He could rise upwards of twenty feet sometimes. 

His focus would be tested today. He would levitate himself, and then the droid was instructed to shoot blasts at him at random. If he could remain focused, he would not fall to the ground. 

Kylo sat cross-legged, securing his mask on (it wouldn’t do for him to bludgeon himself on the floor), and then closed his eyes. It took only fifteen minutes or so of deep meditation for him to feel the floor disappear from beneath him, only himself, the air, and the Dark side of the Force pulsing around him.

And it was only a few minutes later that the first blaster shot rang out. Kylo stopped it with his mind easily, holding it in place while he levitated higher to let it run it’s course into the wall. 

Another shot rang out, and again, he caught it, but before he could move to let it fly, another shot hit him in the side. 

Kylo grimaced, the sting of pain reverberating throughout his ribcage, and he dropped a couple feet before regaining his focus.

Sweat began to bead on his brow, at the small of his back, his chest, as he channeled all of his energy into keeping himself afloat, into blocking any shots—

The next shots were two rapid fire blasts, first of which he caught, the second of which got him on his other side. He dropped to the hard durasteel floor like a stone.

The hit jarred him, knocked the breath from his lungs and rattled his bones painfully. He would bruise for sure—perhaps as ugly and deep as the one that had adorned Girl. Another penance. 

Kylo caught his breath, groaning as he held his aching elbow where it had smacked against the floor, but soon enough he was back in his cross-legged position, breathing deeply, channeling the pain into meditation, letting the aches help him to levitate off the ground once more. 

It was several hours later, and several crashes to the durasteel floor, before Kylo felt his pain levels were exceeding that of which he could use effectively anymore. He could barely get a foot off the ground, and such a fall was nothing. 

So, battered and bruised, his nerves on fire from the stunning blaster shots he’d been subjected to for half the day, Kylo limped back up to the Archives room. 

_See_ , he wanted to tell the Sith spirits. _I am not weak._

_I’m NOT._

_…Can’t you see?_

* * *

~~~OOOO~*~OOOO~~~

* * *

Rey felt restless.

There was something wrong. Something bad. Something dark. 

And it was growing. 

She didn’t know if it was a person or a shadow or something else, but it felt too close for comfort. She wanted to get away from it, but not even pulling into herself blocked it out all the way. Her place of warmth and safety was being tainted. 

Still, she tried to ignore it. She would stay here until it was unbearable. Even now, the vague anxiety she felt on the outskirts of her mind was better than the pain and fear and sickness she felt before. 

Yes, she would stay here. It was much better here. The dark thing would go away. 

She’d be safe here forever. 

….Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys are really really chomping at the bit, wanting to know when Rey wakes up so you can take a break and let some chapters build before binging and getting to it, roll your mouse over the symbol to find out:  
> Spoiler alert !
> 
> Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy the ride 😎
> 
> Next Chapter: Kylo has a dream, and makes a new discovery with regards to Girl...  
> Posting Date: Tuesday, May 5th, 8PM Japan time
> 
> Also!! I drew a thing for chapter 19! I posted it to my tumblr as well, but go check it out at the end notes of 'Speak' if you're curious 😀 I think it came out pretty well, if I do say so myself 😂


	30. A Shell Too Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a nightmare, and Kylo discovers something....
> 
> *trigger warning for mild gore*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨✨✨SURPRIIIIISE ✨✨✨
> 
> Since it's Star Wars Day (May the Fourth), I decided to post the chapter a day early!! 😁✨❤️ 
> 
> Also, thank you THANK YOU to everyone who commented last chapter in support of the pace I have set for this story❤️. Ngl, the first two comments last chapter making quips about how this fic is too slow ripped a big giant hole in my confidence for a good two days. I know that I can't make everyone happy, and just by posting my story (read: my soul) online, I'm opening myself up for criticisms and complaints. But just because I know the hammer is going to drop doesn't make it hurt any less when it lands on my toes 🙃 I'm only human 😭  
> But the good news is, what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger, and after writing a couple more chapters I have regained my strength and motivation 💪 I'm gonna write this slow burn just to spite the haters 😂 *makes the story EVEN SLOWER*
> 
> jk jk 😜 😘
> 
> Anyways, thank you guys so much. I love you and appreciate you ❤️ Enjoy!

* * *

Kylo dreamed. 

He was on a starship, one with labyrinthine corridors that seemingly had no end or beginning. Everything was the same wherever he looked—the lights, the lack of viewports, the durasteel. There was sand and reddish rocks in places along the walls and floor, but it felt normal here. He paid it no mind.

The air tasted of static, prickling Kylo’s skin, telling him that someone was there in the maze with him. He didn’t know who. He just knew he needed to find them.

Kylo moved, trying to take care with which turns he took, with where he had come. It was important now that he not go back on himself thoughtlessly. He needed to keep moving forward, he needed to find whoever was in here with him. 

The uniformity of everything made it almost impossible, as did the fact that he was very sure that the walls and corridors were moving and rearranging around him, but he was determined to not lose hope. 

He knew he was getting closer, he could feel it in the air, in the way his skin prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He could smell the ozone, could almost see the static sparking between light fixtures. 

Turning another corner, Kylo stopped. Someone stood in the corridor, facing away from him. A wave of deja vu hit him as he slowly approached them. 

_“I’m lost,”_ a female voice said. 

“What?” Kylo asked, his heart pounding. He looked around for another figure he had a feeling would show up, but instead there was a sudden mountain of bacta packs flowing down from an opening ahead in the ceiling, stopping just at the girl’s toes. She kneeled, and began picking up the packs while counting quietly.

_“One, two, three—“_

“What are you doing?” Kylo asked, finally getting close enough to see who it was. The girl’s stringy brown hair was wet, dripping to the floor. She looked up, and it was the face of an emaciated child who greeted him. Somehow, he knew it was Girl.  
  
_“I’m trying to be useful,”_ she whispered, returning to her counting. _“…four, five, six—“_

“Stop that,” he commanded, but she just kept counting. His temper rose, and he stooped to take the packs from her hands with a rough, “I said stop it,” but before he could reach her, out of the mountain of bacta packs exploded a figure who tackled Girl down the corridor.

Kylo thought he saw a flash of blond hair, but as the figure stood it was revealed to be Cseenan Ren.

Girl was lax, held up in his arms, and her expression was sorrowful but resigned. 

_“I knew this would happen,”_ she murmured. Her eyes found his, sharp and accusatory now, voice deep. _“I knew you were a weak, pathetic child.”_

Cseenan had one clawed hand gripping her neck, the other dug into the flesh of her stomach. His blue eyes flashed as he grinned, a hissing chuckle vibrating from his throat, _“I heard they can regrow their headssss,”_ his claws ripped deep gouges into her soft midsection, exposing the muscle and organs beneath, the hand on her throat tearing across in the opposite way, red, red blood and skin and meat splattering to the floor as her neck and abdomen were pulled apart, and Kylo couldn’t move, could only shake his head in desperate denial, could only hoarsely whisper, “NO, STOP,” when he wanted to _shout_ it, but Cseenan merely opened his mouth, a mouth with too many teeth, the sound of a saber igniting echoing from the Barabel’s throat, a choked scream coming from somewhere behind him, and then—

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Kylo jerked awake, his heart pounding, limbs trembling. The beeping was coming from his comm, and as he moved to pick it up from the ledge beside his bed he winced and groaned, panting from sudden excruciating pain. His body was in fucking agony. 

“Ren,” he answered hoarsely when he finally got ahold of the device. For a moment he feared it was the medbay, calling him to say that something bad had happened to Girl, that she’d been attacked, her head torn off—

_“Master,”_ Tomaxx replied, and Kylo was immediately alert and sitting up (with another suppressed groan and wince), dark thoughts shoved away. 

The Chiss continued, _“We’ve finished on Jakku. Heading back to the Finalizer now. ETA is in two hours.”_

_So quick_ , Kylo thought, spying the chrono by his bed. He realized he’d slept later than he had in a long, long time. But even so, his Knights had been gone for only a day. 

“Did you find anything?” He asked, his heart thundering in his chest. 

_“Yes.”_

It was such a simple thing, such a small word, but the relief he felt _was….immense._

“The map?” Kylo questioned, feeling breathless all of a sudden.

_“A lead. We will give you a full report when we return.”_

“Very good,” he murmured, not willing to let his soaring feeling fade. A lead was better than nothing. A lead could get them somewhere. 

_“Master,”_ Tomaxx hesitated. _“You should know there was a…deviation…in our usual mission procedures.”_

Kylo frowned. “What happened?” 

Normally the two Knights left little evidence of their presence on whatever planet they infiltrated, as it helped to keep their identities secret. It was easier to perform subterfuge and espionage when no one knew your face anywhere. 

That there was a deviation meant that people might have noticed them for some reason. Kylo had an idea where the deviation may have come from.

“Was it Cseenan?” He asked, irritated.

The line was silent for a moment, and then Tomaxx answered, _“Yes.”_

Kylo wondered how he was going to have any teeth anymore for all the grinding his jaw was doing lately. 

“Is he alive?”

_“Quite,”_ the chiss droned, sounding very put-out. _“It will be in the report. We need to get into hyperspace, before anyone finds us.”_

Kylo braced his feet on the cold floor, his body tense. 

“They’re _chasing_ you?” 

What the kriff happened on Jakku?

_“There was a Warden. We lost him for now but I’d rather not lead him to the fleet.”_

“Right,” Kylo muttered. The First Order was still in hiding for the most part. The Rebels seemed to have some small inkling of their existence, but it would behoove Kylo and his Knights not to accidentally reveal the hidden army before its time.

“It would be better if you took a more indirect route, even if it takes longer. Have the report ready before you arrive.”

_“Yes, Master.”_ The line went dead, and Kylo sat still on his bed, his mind whirling.

They hadn’t found the map, although they’d found a lead….but at what cost to their future groundwork endeavors? 

If their faces or likenesses ended up on an alert on the holonet, they would not be able to get as deep into their intel work as they have been. It jeopardized too much. It could out the First Order. 

Kylo cursed under his breath, standing stiffly, gritting his teeth against the pain shooting throughout his body. 

Cseenan was going to pay if he had messed up their missions, current and future, with whatever he did on the desert planet. 

Breathing deeply through the aches and pains, Kylo centered himself before limping slowly to the ‘fresher. He hadn’t hurt this much in a long while—not since the last time he had disappointed Leader Snoke—but he relished in the pain more this time than ever before. This time it wasn’t at the hands of another that he was stripped of his weakness. This time it was his own doing—his own discipline and control. 

He was proud of himself for every bruise and contusion. 

And oh, how numerous they were. He inventoried them after stripping, noting the discoloration and swelling on his knees, hip, forearms, elbows, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew there were bruises on his shoulder blades and tailbone. Even his head was aching and tender in some spots where the inside of his mask had pressed into him upon impact on the floor. His helmet sported a few new dents now, although the steel of it had held remarkably well in spite of the abuse.

Last night he had returned to the Archives room, pulsing with darkness and almost _demanding_ recognition for his dedication to the Dark side. The Sith spirits had not played anymore tricks on him, presumably because he had finally rid himself of the weakness everyone had sensed. Emboldened, Kylo had attempted to use his newfound knowledge to heal himself. 

He had not been successful.

The resulting frustrated rage had almost ended with him tearing the Archives room apart with the sabers, but he’d stopped himself. Even with the dark voices whispering for him to do it, to let go and slash and destroy, he had found the steady waters within himself and calmed enough to finish translating the chapter and then move on to another text on swordplay. 

He doesn’t remember eating dinner or going to bed, but the end of the night he’d been so exhausted and mindless with pain that he’s not surprised at his vague memory.

In the ‘fresher Kylo turned the water on frigidly cold. He gasped beneath the spray, clenching and tensing his body to keep himself under for as long as he could stand it. Girl had lasted days with similar bruising, and with hypothermia. He could withstand this now. 

Her pain tolerance was remarkably high, although he reasoned that she was probably used to being beaten, used to a harsh living under a harsher sun. He could commend her on her endurance—a good sign for her possible future as a Knight— if it hadn’t almost killed her.

Still, now that he knew what all she had been through—not just on his ship, but also an inkling of her treatment on Jakku—there was no need for him to be afraid of being too strict on the girl. He would be strict, he would be commanding, and she would submit and obey, or she would be punished. 

If she could withstand days of sickness and ill health, she could withstand what was potentially in store for her should she step out of line.

Kylo finished washing up with limbs stiff from pain and cold, shaved, then dried and dressed himself. He could feel the Dark side of the Force undulating around him as his wounds became more painful from his movements. His heart pounded strongly in his chest, his hands prickled and itched as if the Force was anxious to be harnessed, anxious to be used. 

He wanted to use it. He wanted to see how far his pain could take his power. Could he lift four droids? Ten? Could he levitate for ten hours? Could he battle one hundred troopers? Three hundred? The possibilities seemed endless with this amount of power flowing around and through him.

Would Girl recognize his power and seek it out, try to grasp it? Would she reach out to him again?

Would she wake up?

It was a thought that moved Kylo briskly through the rest of his morning routine. He ate his now-cold breakfast quickly and then donned his mask. But as he moved to the door he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and heard another dark whisper behind him.

_“Brotherrr.”_

He stopped, his heart thundering, his skin prickling, senses on alert. But he would not show weakness. He was overflowing with strength and power now; whatever Sith mind-games were being played, he _would not submit to them._

So Kylo clenched his fists, hardened his heart and cleared his mind of all the things the whisper brought up in him. And then without acknowledging the dark thing behind him, Kylo continued stalwartly out to the corridor towards the lift. 

* * *

Girl’s vitals were much improved, as far as Kylo could tell. She’d been in the bacta tank for going on four days now, so he expected as much (and if they hadn’t improved he would have gutted every medic in the medbay). 

He couldn’t tell from the blue glow if her coloring was any better, but she did look healthier around the part of her face visible around the breathing mask. Slightly less gaunt, less terminally breakable. Whatever they were feeding into her veins, it was helping. But she still hadn’t woken up or shown any real signs of waking up, aside from some random brain activity here and there. 

She wasn’t a vegetable, which was reassuring, but why wasn’t she awake?

“She’s making a good recovery,” The elder medic said after stepping up beside Kylo where he stood. 

“Not good enough, evidently,” the masked man growled, annoyed that the doctor seemed to be trying to placate him. “She’s still unconscious. You said she’d be up by now.”

The medic pursed his lips disapprovingly. 

“So what would you have us do?” He asked, mildly exasperated. “We could try to wake her up chemically—pump her full of adrenaline, which could weaken her heart further and do damage to her healing circulatory system from the shock of it. Would that satisfy you?” 

Kylo imagined himself grabbing the medic by the throat and slamming his head against the transparisteel case, furiously snarling about gaining satisfaction only from seeing the doctor’s blood.

He mentally shook the image from his head, breathing through it. 

“No,” he replied hoarsely instead. 

The medic nodded, and they were quiet for a moment. 

“I’m curious, Lord Red,” the medic mused, “why you care about this Junk.”

Kylo tensed, his bruised muscles screaming from the act. The tank and surrounding equipment shuddered, the holos and datapad screens glitched, and the medic tottered to the side with an alarmed look around.   
  
“Do not call her that,” Kylo hissed. The other man looked at him with slight apprehension.

“My apologies, Milord,” the medic uttered, finally showing some trepidation around the Dark master. “But is it any worse than ‘Girl’?” 

“Yes,” Kylo ground out, turning on the man. “Because Girl is the name _I_ gave her. And it is what she shall be called.” The threat was evident in every inch of his tone and stance, and the doctor seemed to finally take heed of who it was he was dealing with as he gave a jerky nod. 

“Of course, Milord.” He lowered his gaze in begrudging deference until Kylo turned back to look down at Girl again. The medic’s submission felt like a hard-won victory after Kylo had been subject to his arrogant and snide attitude for the past week. _I should show the extent of my righteous anger more often_ , thought Kylo with a small, twisted smile. 

“Is there anything else you need, Milord?” The doctor asked, with only a trace amount of snideness. 

_I need her to wake up_ , he wanted to say, but he’s not exactly sure _why_ he needed it as badly as he did, so he merely gave a small shake of his head, dismissing the medic without a word. 

With his heightened senses, her glowing aura was almost dazzling. It was difficult to explain it, really, because it wasn’t exactly a visual thing—it was all _feeling._ And she was teeming with potential energy. 

She felt like a hyperdrive engine that was primed for a jump, but hadn’t been triggered yet. She felt restless, and as Kylo extended his senses towards her, he was suddenly reminded of something from so long ago now—

_“Here, Ben, hold out your hands.”_

_A young man of twenty scowled slightly. “What for? Going to slap me with another reed?” His voice reduced to a grumble. “What did I do this time?”_

_Luke Skywalker gave him an unamused look. “Just hold out your hands.”_

_Ben’s mouth thinned to a tense line, but he did as he was told._

_The Jedi master placed something in the valley of Ben’s palms with a quiet, “Gently now, don’t drop it.”_

_The young man frowned, cupping his hands around the object, peering down to see a blue and green spotted egg. He glanced up with a quirked brow._

_“Why am I holding an egg?”_

_The master looked back at him with untold patience._

_“Close your eyes. I want you to feel it, from here,” he pointed a finger to Ben’s chest._

_The apprentice wanted to say a quip back about ‘feeling thy breakfast’ but decided against it at his Uncle’s serious look. He closed his eyes instead, focusing his senses on the softly round thing nestled in his palms._

_It was warm, that much was initially evident. And it was very much alive—he could almost hear the tiny heart beating, could sense it moving restlessly within the confines of the shell. It was almost too big for it now. It was feeling constricted. It couldn’t move._

_It wanted out._

_Ben opened his eyes, feeling upset for some reason. He moved to hand the egg back._

_“There’s a chick inside. It’s almost ready to hatch,” he reported blandly, trying to hide his sudden tumultuous feelings. He could never hide from Luke Skywalker though. The older man was eyeing him knowingly._

_“But what else?”_

_“I don’t know,” the apprentice replied, suddenly desperate to not be holding the egg anymore. “Here, you take it.”_

_“You’ve barely searched it, Ben.”_

_It was so fragile, so breakable. He was going to end up cracking it. He was going to end up destroying this tiny life without meaning to. It’s all he seemed to do anymore. Destroy._

_“Take it, I don’t want it.”_

_“Ben—“_

_“I SAID, TAKE IT—“_

Kylo wrenched himself from the memory, realizing that there were alarms going off on the machines around him that connected to Girl’s tank and person. Several droids and human medics hurried over, and Kylo stepped out of the way as they checked the codes flashing on the screens and tried to fix them. 

Kylo attempted to breathe and calm his racing heart, tried to pull back into himself in case it was his powers threatening the circuitry again. Suddenly he wished the Force wasn’t so strong with him anymore. Suddenly he wished he wasn’t so empowered. He couldn’t find a grip on it. 

He was not in control.

His eyes swept the length of the tank, searching for cracks. What if he broke it? What if he ruined Girl’s recovery? What if—

His whole body tensed—almost flinched rigid— from the sudden Force that pressed against his mind. It took him only a second to figure out what it was:

It was Girl. 

She was reaching out to him, _deliberately._ There was still an undercurrent of unawareness to it, but she felt almost like she was trying to _comfort him._

Kylo took in a shuddering breath, realizing that he’d momentarily stopped breathing. The alarms quieted, and after another couple tense moments the medics and droids began moving away, having determined that their patient wasn’t suddenly dying again, sending Kylo nervous looks as they went. 

The Dark master stood rooted to the spot, almost afraid that if he tried to get closer, this feeling from her would break and disappear. He stared at her, seeing with his own eyes that she was still floating, that she was still asleep. 

But how was she able to do this? It made no sense. 

After basking with incredulity in the extraordinary Force-presence brushing against his churning mind (she was almost like a docile Loth-cat, trying to pacify him with a brush against his legs), Kylo finally took the chance to step forward, bringing himself to his now-usual place beside the bacta tank. 

This went beyond the typical strangeness. This was…something different _entirely._

Girl’s presence began to shrink back, perhaps having sensed how mollified he had become in his shock, or perhaps for a different reason. But Kylo did not want this feeling to end. He reached out, palm against the warm transparisteel, senses chasing her own. 

He was inside her mind now, feeling just how not-asleep-and-yet-not-awake she was. She seemed comatose from the outside, but here she was bursting with energy, bursting with life. 

What was this bizarreness? How was this possible? She was just a slave; an untrained slip of a girl who hadn’t even known what her powers were _called_ just days ago. How was she doing this?

He wanted to go deeper, wanted to see if he could possibly communicate with her, because maybe that’s what she needed to wake up.

But then she was pushing against him again, this time to push him out. 

She was frightened. 

Kylo wanted to push back, wanted to force her to let him in, to let him stay. 

But he did not want Girl hurting herself in her attempts to be rid of him, especially if it meant she’d be asleep for longer.

And so he pulled back out of Girl’s mind as gently as he could, suddenly afraid of being like the Terentatek in a crystal house the way she’d been, forcing her way into his mind just eight days ago. He did not want to crash anything here. Not when she was so close to recovery. Not when she was so close to finally waking up. 

She continued to feel restless for a few moments longer before he sensed her fading away. It caused his heart to jump and he almost plunged back in to keep her near. But he knew now that she was _so close_ to finally reanimating, she just needed a little bit more time. As tempting as it was to crack open the bacta tank and pull her out himself, she would be getting out on her own soon enough. 

And so Kylo decided he would stand vigil until she did. He wanted to be there when she woke up.

It wouldn’t be long now. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEEHEEHEE 
> 
> We're getting close!! 🤩
> 
> Next chapter: Rey has a nightmare, and comforts the shadow. Kylo gets the report back from Jakku and is _not_ pleased...  
> Posting date: Friday, May 8th, 9pm Japan time.
> 
> (So, technically Prime Minister Abe extended the state of emergency in Japan, but I technically have school back again on Friday the 8th, and next week is supposedly normal classes again, but I have no idea if that will actually hold or if my prefectural governor will keep the schools closed until end of May.....I just really hate all these half-measures. So, ANYWAYS, if school starts back up, postings will be once a week again, blah blah blah, let's all hope classes get cancelled til end of May 🤞)
> 
> [EDIT] I drew another thing!! :D


	31. The Report from Jakku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has weird nightmares, and Kylo wrestles more with himself ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I hope everyone had a great Star Wars week! :D I rewatched episodes 4 and 5, and bought myself a duel-capable lightsaber that had been on sale 😂😂😂  
> Thanks again for your lovely comments! They've been helping me get through some really crappy days ❤️
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter :D We're getting close!

* * *

  
Rey’s dreams were becoming more and more bizarre. 

This time there were rocks, sand, durasteel, sharp edges, shadowy figures, and things that had no name. It was an electric storm of images, sounds, and feelings, with no up or down or way to make sense of it all. 

She was happy when it ended, when things were back to the warm darkness. 

But then another dream came, and while it was more visually stable, it almost confused her more than the chaos.

She dreamt she was on a starship, with winding maze-like corridors. The walls were half durasteel, half protruding rocks— like the ones on Jakku—and there was sand in places on the ground. It was strangely homey to see. 

There was even more static in the air, so much so that she could feel it humming in her teeth, behind her eyes. When she went to touch a jagged rock, to see if it felt the same as the ones back home, to see if it felt as real as it looked, it shocked her and she flinched away. _Strange._ She’s never felt pain like that in a dream before. She turned from the rocks, determined to forget it and continue forward towards…..something. 

There was someone else here, in this maze of strangeness. She needed to find them. She knew she was so close.

Rey meandered through, letting the buzzing in her bones guide her, and although everything looked the same no matter which way she went, she trusted she was getting closer. 

And then she turned a corner and saw the most eerie scene. 

There was a large pile of some sort of small packages in the middle of the corridor, and beyond that stood a tall, dark figure. Somehow, even with his back turned, she knew it was Lord Ren. There was a tremulous quality to his image though, as if she was seeing him on a glitching datapad. 

But the strangest thing of all was seeing a skeleton-like child-version of what she knew was herself, held in the claws of someone. It seemed like Lord Cseenan but…she knew it wasn’t him. It had the visage of the Barabel, but it was something worse. Something _much_ worse. 

The child-Rey said something, her gaze cold and far too old for her young face, and then Lord Cseenan hissed something, the sounds echoing and mushing together too much to understand, his image blurring even more, something else flickering in his place as he grinned a menacing smile and began to tear across the child’s stomach and neck with his claws, the sickening sound of skin and muscle ripping, blood and viscera splattering to floor, momentarily silenced Rey with shock. 

She flinched as Lord Ren yelled, _‘NO, STOP,’_ the sound so close to her she almost felt it coming from inside her own mind, before the Barabel opened his toothy mouth, a strange sound erupting from it as he did, and Rey finally found her voice and she let out a choked scream just seconds before everything lurched around her, and she felt like she was being wrenched away, the world turning upside down and rightside in, the effect nauseating and painful and disorienting. 

When the blue glow surrounded her again she immediately shrank right back into her dark sanctuary, trying to find peace and balance and wellness. 

But it was hard. 

The images and feelings lingered, and Rey couldn’t understand what they meant. Why did she dream such a horrible scene? It didn’t make any sense. 

This dark place was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to keep her sheltered. 

Why did everything feel so off now? 

It took more time than usual for her to find sleep again, fearful as she was of falling into another sinister dream. She was anxious. What if this dark, warm place wasn’t good anymore? 

Where could she go, if she couldn’t be safe here? 

* * *

  
Rey shivered in her warm place. 

The dark thing was enormous now. It surrounded her on all sides; penetrated her place of safety with it’s dark Feelings. 

It was so _angry,_ and it was in _such horrible pain._

She could almost feel the aches all over, as if she’d been beaten herself. _Maker,_ she hated this feeling. She did not want to think of those awful times, not with Troog, and definitely not with Vins. But how could she help? How could someone as insignificant and weak as her make any sort of impact against something so unfathomably powerful?

Suddenly its rage spiked, shaking her world around her. And then it wasn’t anger, but terrible anxiety—rising higher and higher, pressing down on her, suffocating in its desperate way.

Rey didn’t think, she just knew she needed to try and stop it. She needed to try and calm it down. 

And so, desperate to soothe the thrashing monster, she finally reached out to the dark thing, the panicking shadow, tried to push as much comfort and peace and tranquility as she could at it, hoping that it would be enough, hoping that it wouldn’t turn its anger on her for her audacity. She was nothing compared to this thing. How dare she think she could sway its emotions?

But then….it almost seemed to seize in shock. And then….it started to settle somewhat, and she could tell that it was astounded and curious and quickly becoming mollified by her efforts.

It was such a relief, to know that her subservience could help her even in this strange dream-world. 

The threat of darkness having receded now, Rey decided it was time to come back. 

She did not expect to be _followed._

Her warm place suddenly felt too small as the shadow seeped in after her. It felt like an unwanted guest, coming to look at her nesting place, its curiosity piqued to new heights. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want it snooping around, filling up the space with it’s coldness and darkness and lingering tremorous emotions. 

She was so afraid of what it would do to her if she challenged it, but she couldn’t let it stay. So she pushed at it, trying to force it out. It resisted at first, not budging even a little bit at her efforts, as if to say ‘I have all of the power here, you cannot tell me what to do.’ But to her immense relief it finally relented, allowing her to push it out completely. 

Out, out out, until all that was left was an empty, but warm, place. Her place of safety. Her little cocoon. 

And she knew then that that’s what this place was. It was never meant to hold her forever; it was never meant to keep her safe _always—_ Just until she was strong enough. Although for what, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure what she would be when she finally hatched, but she doubted it would be any better than the ugly, frail worm she’d been before.

* * *

~~~~~OO~*~OO~~~~~

* * *

Kylo stood by the bacta tank looking down at Girl for a long while, trying to see any evidence of wakefulness—perhaps a twitch of her face, or the flex of a hand—but resigned himself to more waiting when there was no change. 

He almost wanted to get checked by a droid in the meantime, because the pains he felt were very distracting, and he was wary of almost losing control again. But his pride won out in the end, and he decided this would be a lesson of self-discipline. He would _not_ let himself lose control again. He would _not_ be so weak-willed. That Girl had been the one to help him get a grip, while _unconscious,_ was both astonishing and frustrating. He should not rely on an untrained slave for support. He was a Master. It was shameful.

He was also curious to see how long the powerful effects would last. Maybe his great access to Dark power would still be around when Girl woke up. She would be terrified no doubt, but maybe it would help her understand the potential at her fingertips. Someday when he was able to train her fully, she, too, could become just as strong and powerful. 

He’s not sure how long he stood watching over her, so deep into thought he’d become. He could feel it when his Knights arrived back on the ship, though, and he knew he should go meet them and debrief them but he didn’t want to leave. What if she woke up?

It was Tomaxx who found him, the Chiss approaching his flank with more apprehension than Kylo had seen in him in a long time, although the Knight hid it well. No doubt he could sense the Dark side of the Force, vibrating the air around Kylo like never before.

“Master,” he probed quietly, “we have returned.” 

“I can see that,” Kylo deadpanned back. 

Tomaxx’s mask titled to look at Girl, and then back at his master.

“We should go to the Archives room to discuss the report.” 

Kylo grit his teeth, feeling at war within himself. He knew he should go, he knew they needed to discuss their next steps, and he needed to know what had gone wrong on Jakku. But the thought of leaving this spot filled him with petulant resistance. 

“Master,” Tomaxx repeated, “This is time-sensitive. We need to—“

“I know that it’s time-sensitive, Tomaxx Ren,” Kylo hissed, finally turning from the tank. It was bad enough he hadn’t received them in the hangar, his pride would not allow his own apprentice to remind him of what he should do in this as well.

“Let’s go,” he growled, stalking out of the medbay, hardening his mental shields and clamping down any juvenile feelings. 

Once out in the corridor the Knight caught up with Kylo’s long gait, and they silently made their way up to the Archives room. Cseenan was already there, standing from his seat at the holotable as Kylo entered. 

“Master—“

Kylo immediately rounded on the Barabel, the door shutting heavily behind him. 

“What did you do?”

The Knight tensed, his scales rippling, claws moving rhythmically in his agitation. 

“Cseenan helped find the lead,” he hissed. 

“But you were chased. What caused that?”  
  
“We found the old man, Lor San Tekka,” Tomaxx explained, his tone prompt and un-accusatory despite the contents of his report. “We found out where he had sent the map, who he had given it to, and then Cseenan Ren ate him. I had to kill all of the tribespeople after Cseenan began to feed, but one of them managed to get away, and alerted the Warden—” 

The air froze around Kylo as he processed the information. He turned sharply to Cseenan.

“You _what?”_

“What does it matter?” The barabel rasped, his amber eyes narrowed. “We found the lead— the one that _you_ lost to bring a useless _pet_ on board.”

Kylo moved quickly to stand across the table from the Knight, his fists clenched, the darkness of his pain and the surrounding Sith artifacts urging him to lash out, to make Cseenan pay for his insulting words. The table shuddered and the lights flickered under the force of his barely restrained powers.

“The only animal I see on this ship is _you,_ Cseenan Ren,” Kylo snarled, and the Knight jerked upright, bristling dangerously, a murderous glint to his darkening eyes. Kylo continued, his wrath unbound. 

“Perhaps I should put a muzzle on you, since you can’t seem to find the control within yourself to not act like a _beast._ Have you not learned anything in your training? Have I been wasting my time with you?”

“No, Master,” the barabel growled, “but perhaps Cseenan has been wasting his time with _you.”_

_“Cseenan,”_ Tomaxx sharply whispered, and it was all the warning given before Kylo threw his hand out, the darkness within himself bursting forth, unleashing a web of lightning at the Knight that threw Cseenan back against a shelf, cracking the transparisteel casing. The barabel collapsed to his knees, doubled over, trembling. His rasping, wheezing breaths were loud in the suddenly dead-quiet room. 

Kylo clenched his fists at his side, trying not to show how taken aback he was with this new development in his abilities, although with the recent static he’d been sensing lately he supposed he should have realized this was going to happen eventually. He felt his pride soar once more, although buried deep beneath it lay something that was horrified. 

Tomaxx stood, still as a statue, his countenance giving off how thunderstruck he was. He slowly turned to look at Kylo, apprehension once again making itself known before it was covered with dark composure. 

“Master,” he said, his voice somehow calm through his mask. “In Cseenan’s defense, he hadn’t eaten a full meal in over a day. And,” he paused, unsure again.

“And what?” Kylo growled. 

Cseenan’s rasping voice came up. “And old man Tekka insulted us.” He grasped the back of a chair as he shakily stood, his sharp teeth bared in a grimace of anger and pain.

Kylo shook his head in furious disappointment. “You should have better control by now,” he bit back. “I hope you got all of the relevant information from him, because if this lead is jeopardized by your carelessness—“

“No more than it was from yours,” the Knight hissed, and Tomaxx moved to place himself between Cseenan and Kylo, his arm outstretched.

“Stop,” the chiss warned. “We don’t have time for this.” He turned to look at Kylo. “That’s not all that happened.”

Kylo wanted to snap at Tomaxx to quit acting like he was in charge, to get out of the way so he could see just how much of this electrical power he could summon, but he wanted to get this debrief over with quickly. He needed to get back to the medbay.

“Tell me,” he commanded sharply.

“When we first arrived, Niima Outpost was in mild chaos,” Tomaxx began lowly. “In addition to a small slave uprising, they were recovering from attacks by unknown parties. We traced things to a nomadic tribe, which had been pillaged by pirates. The old nomad had given the map piece to a Resistance pilot, Poe Dameron, who had secured it in his BB-unit droid, but the droid was stolen when they were besieged. The pilot had found his way back to Niima Outpost and stolen a freighter to chase after them.”

Kylo flexed his tingling hands, his anger still simmering beneath his skin.

“So we still don’t know where the map piece is? How is that a lead?” 

“The freighter what got snatched,” growled Cseenan, “was the _Millennium Falcon_.”

Kylo froze, the air around him turning instantly frigidly cold. 

“That piece of _garbage,”_ he hissed, “was on _Jakku?”_

Who could have known that the desert planet would be the holder of the map to Skywalker, the mysterious Force-sensitive slave girl, _and_ his father’s infamous ship? Jakku seemed to be some sort of collector of things that threw Kylo’s life into disarray.

How did that damned ship get there in the first place? Its captain certainly hadn’t been there, or Kylo would have sensed him. He’s not even sure what he would have done if Han Solo had been at Niima Outpost. He knew what we was supposed to do, but he didn’t want to think about it.

“I sent out a probe through my contacts,” Tomaxx continued, “to alert me if they come across either ship or droid. We will find the map piece, Master. They’re probably still within a couple sectors from here. If we take the shuttle and head towards the next tradepost we might be able to catch another lead—“

“No,” Kylo said without thinking. 

“No?” Sneered Cseenan. “Is Master afraid of his daddy’s flying junk?”

It was a combination of many things in his sentence that reignited Kylo’s fury to uncontrollable heights, fueled by his pain and the dark forces pressing in around them. He had the Barabel in a ironclad grip with the Force, holding the Knight up by his throat, voices whispering in his head, urging him to do it, to _crush_ his neck, to _kill_ him, his own voice unrecognizable through his outrage, 

_“You **dare** speak to me this way?” _

And then there was a throaty chuckle, and Kylo saw the wraithlike figure floating down the row behind Cseenan, its dark grin hidden in shadows, and Kylo felt his stomach roil and he released the barabel instantly. 

He breathed through the nausea, clenching and unclenching his fists, shaking from the effort it took not to explode.

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he commanded hoarsely as Cseenan found his footing while coughing and rubbing his throat.

“Master,” Tomaxx, began, helping to steady the Barabel Knight. “What about the—“

“GET. _OUT,”_ Kylo bellowed, his vocomodulator crackling and warping the words from the strength of his voice. 

The Chiss tensed, staring at Kylo from behind his mask silently, darkly contemplative.

“Yes, Master,” he seethed quietly, tugging on Cseenan’s arm, pulling him out to the corridor with a silent secret look when the Barabel resisted for a moment. 

Kylo stood alone in the Archives room, trembling, swallowing the bile rising in his throat, feeling like his skin was too tight for his body, like he was going to split open and be nothing but a walking skeleton with muscle and veins exposed. 

The darkness around him felt oppressive, felt like it was trying to seep into the bursting seams of his soul, to overfill him and make him explode. He needed to get out of there. He needed, _he needed—_

He needed to go to the medbay.

Kylo lurched for the door, almost losing it completely when it felt stuck closed, but it opened at his manual pressing of the controls, and he marched stiffly to the lift. 

It felt too long, too much time, from when he got into the lift and when it opened on the medbay floor, and he did everything in his power to seem in control, to seem rigid and fine and not like he was about to blow the entire corridor into space as he stormed past officers and troopers and into the medbay, to Girl’s tank.

Seeing her, reaching out to hover over her sleeping mind, feeling her blazing flame in the Force, quieted some of the chaos within himself. Made him feel less like he was going to break. It was nothing like the soothing he’d felt from her mind pressing against his own earlier, but it would have to be enough for now.   
  
Fuck, he was _so weak_. 

But this was not a weakness that could be cured by pain, evidently. He’d gone too far, he’d tipped the balance and ended up exactly where he didn’t want to be—too much pain. Too much darkness. Too much. 

He wished he could push out of his body like a bird from a shell, or a moth from a cocoon. He wanted to be free from this. 

He knew the quickest way to reduce this overwhelming feeling would be to get painkillers from the medbay, but he had instructed them to never give him any unless he was going to die without them. He knew if he asked, it would get logged. Snoke would find out. And his pain from that punishment would be ten times worse than what he was feeling now. 

He should meditate. It was the only other way—clear his mind and pull himself inward, away from the pain. Yes, he should go do that, in the training room, or in his quarters. 

But.

Being near Girl….felt….

He shook his head. _Nothing._ She was _nothing._

He just didn’t want her to wake up alone. Or, he didn’t want her to wake up and have the first person she saw be a droid or a medic. It was stupid and ridiculous, thinking that she was like a baby chick and would imprint on whoever she saw first. She wasn’t a bird. She was a person. She’d be his no matter who she saw when she woke up.

Kylo cursed under his breath.

_This_ was the weakness. 

He needed to get away from her. 

He’d go to his quarters and meditate. Yes, That was the plan. 

Kylo breathed, his muscles tensing to move, to take him up to his quarters, determined to meditate for the rest of the day to regain control over the dark forces churning within and without him. 

But he didn’t move. 

He couldn’t.

He just didn’t understand it. Why did he feel so overwhelmed and yet so calmed by this girl? She was _nothing._

Just a slave, a scavenger from Jakku. 

Kylo allowed himself a few moments more to stand by the tank before he wrenched himself from the area, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other to take him to the lift, up to his level, to his quarters. 

He did not go to his bedroom, wary of Darth Vader’s spirit. He was trying to find balance in the darkness, not submerge himself in it more. 

Sitting stiffly on the floor in the center of his entryroom, the couch a few feet away at his back, Kylo removed his helmet and closed his eyes. It hurt to sit, especially since he’d fallen on his ass more times than anywhere else yesterday, but he pushed the pain away. Pushed all of it away—the shelves of force-imbued items, the rooms where Cseenan and Tomaxx were, the ship’s crew, Girl…

He just wanted to retreat to the cold, unfeeling place in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to hurt anymore. 

He just didn’t want to feel _anything_ anymore.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Kylo. 
> 
> I wonder how many times Kylo has described Rey as some sort of smallish animal while also violently denying she's a pet in any way. He is the most flip-floppy character I've ever written, and I hate it and love it so much 😂 Ben Solo and Kylo Ren have been thrown into an epic fistfight within a single body because of Rey. And she doesn't even know 😂😂 
> 
> Hey I drew another fanart pic! I added it to the end of chapter 30, and also to my tumblr 😁✨ I'm happy with how it came out. 
> 
> So I was supposed to go to work today but I called in because the thought of going in and acting like everything is fine is killing me. Next week school starts normally and I'm....not okay with it.  
> (Real talk question, has anyone ever experienced disassociating? Because I think that's what I've been going through for the past two days. During the day I just....stare out the window....for hours.....doing nothing 😬 And then at like, 9PM suddenly I feel like drawing or writing. Feelsbadman because I wanted to get chapter 35 done before posting this. BUt, it's 75% done so...I guess that's better than nothing....) 
> 
> ANyways!
> 
> Next Chapter: So much. So much in this chapter. It's very long. Kylo descends into even darker places, and things fall apart even more...  
> Posting date: Tuesday, May 12th, 9PM Japan time


	32. Darkness Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like vases, things begin to crash around Kylo....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your kind comments last chapter. Life is just pulling me like a yo-yo, and while I feel bad for exposing you guys to it, your words truly mean a lot to me and it makes me feel better to know I'm not alone ❤️ 
> 
> Hooo boy, this is a long chapter.
> 
> 🚨🚨TRIGGER WARNING🚨🚨   
> There is a scene at the very end of this chapter that, while not an actual sexual assault, is a scene that conveys violation of the same magnitude. You will know you have come to it when you see ~~OOOO~*~OOOO~~  
> So please be careful. I will have an un-graphic synopsis in the end notes for those of you who cannot read it.

* * *

After meditating almost all day and going to bed far earlier than he had a right to, Kylo had more garish nightmares. It was another stormy barrage of sand, stone, blood, durasteel, and dark shadows, with an electric current that ran through it all. 

He woke up at the kitchen droid’s beeping entrance as it brought breakfast, and although he had managed to push out the pain and aches with his meditation yesterday, they were back again this morning with a vengeance. 

He sat on his bed, feet going cold on the gleaming floor, elbows braced on knees and head hanging as it pounded horrifically. He was exhausted again. For all this awful dreaming he was doing, it felt like he wasn’t actually getting any rest. 

He took another freezing shower, shaved, dried, and dressed. Ate another tasteless breakfast, looked at useless holonet news. 

Normally he’d comm his Knights to do meditating, training, and studying, but he didn’t need to have Force-sensitivity to know that things between he and his Knights were _shaken_ at best, nearly _broken_ at worst. 

He was failing them. 

He had promised them power and glory, and he was failing them. 

Kylo wanted to be mad at Girl, but it wasn’t her weakness causing all of this. It was his own. And Cseenan Ren’s. 

Kylo gave a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face, pressing his knuckles to the bridge of his brow. The Barabel had better be on his best behavior today or Kylo might actually—

_“What are you doing? STOP—“_

“Shut up,” Kylo hissed, grabbing fistfuls of hair to try and use pain to push out the thoughts, but he was already in so much pain. It barely helped. 

He thought about meditating again, but, even as he settled on the floor and closed his eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be here for long. 

The medbay called to him. 

And so he tried to meditate, tried to prove to himself that he had more control over himself than that. But in the end, after only an hour or two of silent concentration, Kylo finally opened his eyes and stood.

Helmet donned, he headed for the medbay with a heaviness weighing him down, feeling defeated somehow. 

Girl’s vitals were better today. She was going to wake up soon, he could sense it. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. But he knew it, just as he could feel it with the small egg all that time ago at the Temple. She was _so close_. 

He watched her for a while, brushed against her mind, hoping to get some reaction back, wanting to feel that unawake sense from her energized subconscious again. But she slept. 

Kylo was almost envious of her. What he wouldn’t give for a good night’s rest, _or five_. 

The medic came over out of courtesy, as usual, asking if there was anything he needed. Kylo shook his head, crossed his arms. 

“She’s going to wake up soon,” he told the doctor. The older man looked at her vitals pulsing on the holoscreen, pursing his lips in contemplation and nodding. 

“She’s certainly recovering faster than I expected her to be. I think you may be right.”

“I am,” Kylo insisted. “Today or tomorrow. She’s almost ready.” 

He knew the medic wanted to ask him how he knew, but the man kept silent. 

“We will make sure to have things prepared for her for when she does,” the medic assured him. “And you’ll be notified immediately, of course.”

Kylo intended to be there when she came to, but nodded in acknowledgment just the same. 

He felt some familiar shiver on the Force, something slightly anxious, and turned, noticing the stormtrooper still standing by the doorway. The soldier tensed, and Kylo scowled.

“Why are you still here?”

The trooper adjusted his grip on his blaster. 

“My post hasn’t ended yet, sir.”

Kylo rolled his eyes. It agitated him that there was someone in the medbay, near Girl, who wasn’t medical corps. 

“But why are you posted _here?”_

The trooper shifted on his feet, straightening his spine. 

“The medical staff feel safer with me here.”

Kylo tilted his head, darkly amused understanding filtering in with his irritation. _Ah._

“Because of me?”

“Well,” said the Trooper, finally turning his head to look at him. “It’s not because they’re afraid of the Junk.”

_Shut up, don’t call her that_ , Kylo wanted to say. But it was too emotional a response, and he did not want to trigger the darkness hovering on the outskirts of his mind, so he corrected himself.

“You stay away from her," he warned. 

“Sir, this is my _post.”_

Kylo grit his teeth and flexed his hands to try and dispel some of the sudden tingling power that threatened at his fingertips. _Stay calm._

“Then keep anyone _not_ medical staff away from her,” he hissed.

The trooper paused, thinking, and then retorted, “Does that include you, sir?”

Kylo stood tall, his indignation rising even further as he moved to loom over the shorter trooper. 

“The last person to stand between me and that girl and not move when I said to, is dead now. If you’d like to join him, then _be my guest._ ”

The trooper straightened too, but he was no match for Kylo’s stature.

“I thought she was just a Junk. What does it matter?”

_Stay **calm.**_

“She’s not a _Junk,”_ Kylo hissed. “She’s here to be my personal servant. In this place that practically makes her _outrank you_.” 

He really didn’t like this trooper’s attitude. He may not have the authority to punish First Order troops, but he could certainly find someone who did. 

“What is your name, soldier? Who is your commanding officer?”

But before the trooper could reply, Kylo’s comm beeped. He turned away sharply, lifting the comm to his mask.

“What,” he snapped.

_“Lord Ren,”_ came a harried comms officer’s voice. _“There is an issue in the commissary concerning your Knights. You are needed **immediately.”**_

A moment later a soft alarm began to sound from the main console in the medbay, drawing attention from the nearby medics and droids. 

“It’s just a standby warning,” he heard a medic say. “Something’s happened on level six.”

Kylo froze. The commissary was on level six. 

Trooper forgotten—for now—Kylo swiftly turned and stalked out of the medbay, heading for the nearest lift. His senses were prickling with dark energy, with a warning of danger. 

Whatever was happening in the commissary involving his Knights, Kylo had a feeling it was _not good_.   


* * *

  
When Kylo arrived in the eating hall, he was met with what appeared to be the tail-end of a battle. But there were no enemy soldiers here, no Rebels nor Republic officers. Only stormtroopers, and his Knights. 

There was caf and nutrimeal strewn about the floor where two troopers were receiving triage from their comrades. Bloody gashes were thrown into stark relief against the white of their armor.

There were ten yelling troopers with guns trained on Cseenan—who was clawing and chewing at the armor of a trooper trapped in his grasp—and Tomaxx—who was trying to pacify the Barabel and the troopers at the same time, a hand outstretched while the other hovered near his saber. 

His calm voice could be heard over the clamor of the soldiers, telling Cseenan to listen to him, _don’t do this, remember your training, remember the deep river._

Kylo marched up, his fury rising through what flimsy control of it he’d managed to gain this morning, pushing troopers to the side, his booming voice drowning out all others. 

“ENOUGH!”

The room quieted except for the strained cries from the victim as the Barabel’s claws found flesh. The blood served to only rile the Knight up even more, his wet snarls loud as he tore at the white armor with new fervor. 

“Cseenan Ren!” Kylo thundered, pushing Force into his voice to try and punch through the Knight’s hindbrain, hating that Cseenan was causing such a scene in front of First Order troops, hating that there were so many witnesses now to see what had become of the Knights of Ren. 

Tomaxx threw his hand up higher, as if to silence him. Kylo wanted to use the Force to push the Chiss away, to show how he would be the one to calm the Barabel, especially with so many eyes observing them, making note of who was in charge, of who was leading this issue. 

But the Chiss was better at this than him. So somehow he found the strength and held his tongue. 

“Cseenan,” Tomaxx continued in his low tone after a moment. “I have a new riddle for you. Are you ready? Listen carefully.”

The Barabel bit harder, eliciting a yelp of pain, but his claws stilled, his nostrils flaring as he panted, black eyes sightless but somehow sharp as they focused on the other Knight. 

Tomaxx nodded in encouragement. “You captured a Quor’savo for the purpose of laying eggs. You expect three eggs per week, except when it’s the last week of the month. Then it’s four. How many eggs would you have after seven months?”

Kylo frowned, knowing the answer easily already and wondering how such a childish riddle was going to help calm Cseenan down. He felt some of the troopers actually thinking deeply about it though, trying to do the math to solve it. He gave a small chuff of amusement. The First Order truly had low standards for intelligence. 

He wasn’t sure that the Barabel had been able to fully process Tomaxx’s words as Cseenan’s eyes remained black as death, but then Kylo saw his jaw loosen, his mouth slowly coming away from it’s clamp on the trooper’s shoulder. The trooper was frozen, everyone silent, holding their breaths.

“Quor’savo?” Cseenan rasped. 

Tomaxx nodded. “That’s right. How many eggs?”

Cseenan blinked, the black receding from his eyes. 

“None,” he said, frowning at the Chiss. “Quor’savo don’t lay eggs. Only Quor’sava.”

Again Tomaxx nodded. “That’s right.” 

Cseenan seemed to notice that he was holding a stormtrooper in his arms and pulled his claws from where they had embedded in the man’s armor and flesh. At Tomaxx’s beckoning two troopers moved forward to help the injured victim up and away from the Barabel, who snarled but otherwise did not attack again, standing slowly to his feet.

Tomaxx relaxed from his stance—although his hand stayed by his saber—as he approached the Barabel, murmuring something to him, to which Cseenan shook his head. The Knight then seemed to finally notice that Kylo was there, his eyes going slightly dark again, neck scales bristling, but there was stiff resignation in the line of his bent head and shoulders.

“Master,” he growled tensely. 

Kylo stood tall, his back rigid, vein pulsing at his temple. 

“Training room,” he hissed. _“Now.”_

* * *

Kylo paced furiously as his apprentices stood stiffly in dark anticipation, looking on. The Force was like a storm around him, crackling with ominous energy and intent. 

“Master,” Tomaxx ventured, “We can explain—“

Kylo turned on him, seeing red. “THEN EXPLAIN,” he thundered. “Because turning on our own men, fighting and clawing and trying to _eat them_ ,” he sneered at Cseenan pointedly, “is the _furthest_ thing from what you have been taught! Are you even Knights of Ren? Have I been training _unworthy_ students?”

“We were just passing through to the kitchens,” Tomaxx began, “and they started—“

Kylo silenced him with the cutting wave of his hand, sparks arcing from his fingertips at the movement. 

He turned to the Barabel.

“Explain yourself,” he commanded through clenched teeth.

The Knight gave a small, angry chuff, baring his teeth.

“They called Cseenan a _shorttail,”_ he snarled. 

Kylo shut his eyes, the pieces falling into place. _Kriffing fuck._

Calling a Barabel ‘shorttail’ was even worse than saying ‘sorry’ to them. In fact, it was perhaps the _absolute worst_ thing you could _ever_ call a Barabel. Should the word pass from your lips in the direction or hearing of one of them, you _would_ end up either maimed or killed, no matter what. Even Kylo had never called the Knight such an insult, and knew even in his immeasurable anger— such as it was now—that it was a forbidden slur _never_ to be used.

But the Barabel needed to learn to control himself. It was a basic axiom of the Way of Ren. _Discipline and control._ Never let the enemy influence your mind with anything. He had apparently lost control on Jakku due to an insult, and now this. It was shameful.

“How can you call yourself a Knight of Ren,” Kylo hissed, opening his eyes, “if you lose control at every insult thrown your way? Are you a mindless brute after all? Should I have left you in that shit-hole where I found you?”

Cseenan was silent, eyes wide in anger, in disbelief, in something else that was unreadable.   
  
Kylo continued, darkness churning within and around him, the calm he was trying so hard for earlier slipping away, his hands prickling with unspent energy. 

“Sometimes I wonder if I should even bother with you at all anymore.”

Cseenan breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring, the tension in his body and the tremors in his frame showing the intense resistance he was exerting, keeping himself from lashing out at his master with tooth and claw. 

Tomaxx spoke up again, angry and appalled on the Barabel’s behalf.

“Master, Cseenan has—“

The door to the training room slid open, cutting him off.   
  
“What the _hell_ did your Knights do to my men?” Captain Phasma said angrily from just inside the doorway where she stopped. 

Kylo turned, stepping in front of his Knights stiffly. 

“They called my Barabel a shorttail,” he bit back. 

The chrome captain was silent, then gave a gruff sigh. 

“Those _idiots,”_ she fumed, then leaned to the side slightly to address the Knights, and Kylo sidestepped to reveal them. “Does this require a duel, Lord Cseenan?” She asked. 

The Knight’s claws clicked as he thought. His dark eyes glanced at Kylo, a sudden challenging glint to them, and Kylo wondered with clenched jaw if the Barabel would have the duel just to spite him. ‘If I can’t have it with you, then I’ll get one from somewhere else.’

But when the Knight glanced at Tomaxx, it seemed an entire conversation happened in the span of five seconds between the two of them. And in the end, with begrudging resignation, Cseenan shook his head.

“No duel. I got my blood.” He spat, teeth bared in disgust. “Your men taste like shit though.”

“Hm. Very well,” Phasma droned, unamused. She straightened as she addressed Kylo once more. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again, Milord.”

Kylo gave a single short nod. She turned to go, taking it as a dismissal.

“Wait,” Kylo said.

Phasma paused, blandly curious.

Kylo’s thoughts turned darkly ponderous. Cseenan still needed to be punished for his part in the fight, and for causing havoc on Jakku. Kylo had originally thought about making him do various drills until he collapsed, but now he had a better idea. 

“Have they cleaned up the commissary yet?”

Phasma’s helmet tilted a degree. “They’re beginning to. Why?”

Kylo made sure there was no room for argument when he said, “Cseenan Ren will assist with the cleanup.”

_“What,”_ Cseenan snarled. 

Kylo took a step closer to Cseenan, hoping the Barabel could detect the disappointment and fury he felt, since he couldn’t see it on his face through the mask.

“If you’re going to act like a mindless beast,” he murmured so Phasma couldn’t overhear, “Then you can work like one.”

Cseenan bared his teeth, scales bristling, eyes alit with indignation, rage, and something else that Kylo ignored. _No mercy_ , he remembered. No mercy.

“Tomaxx Ren will help as well,” he added more loudly. If the Knight was going to take charge of the Barabel, then he would share in his punishments. 

He was also still angry at the Chiss for thinking Kylo would have any sort of sexual contact with Girl, consensual or otherwise. They had all been tempted by vices over the years, and they had all held steadfast in their discipline. Now was no different than any other time.

“Fine,” Phasma monotoned. “Let’s go, boys. If the nutrimeal hardens on the floor you’ll have to scrape it off on your hands and knees.”

They hesitated for a moment, looking at Kylo as if expecting him to reveal this was all an elaborate joke, but he merely crossed his arms silently, motioning with his head for them to go.

Kylo did halt them with his hand as they passed him, though, leaning in with threatening intent.

“When you’re done, I want you back here. And no detours. Do not go near medbay two,” he commanded. “Either one of you,” he added pointedly at Tomaxx. Even though the Chiss hadn’t shown any ill-will towards the girl, he did not want to take any chances. Not when she was so close to waking up. 

“Yes, Master,” they both said, a grumble in their voices belying the swirling abject disgust with the situation, but too aware of the witness in their midst to show any other form of resistance. 

Kylo watched them go, angry and disappointed and, and just—so many swirling, biting emotions and thoughts, swelling with the darkness fueled by the pains wracking his body still. 

How did things come to this? They had been a well-oiled machine for so long, with nary a noteworthy issue. 

Now it felt like everything was falling apart, right in front of Kylo. Like so many vases. He couldn’t catch them all, it was just too much, too many, all at once. 

What if he could never put them back together?

What would become of the Knights of Ren?

And when the smoke cleared and the full damage was revealed, 

What would become of their failure of a Master?

* * *

It didn’t take long for the Knights to finish helping to clean the mess in the commissary, although Kylo had a suspicion that the troopers and cleaner droids had probably done most of the work. Still, the message was sent, the shame of being made to do cleaning work a decent enough punishment for causing such public chaos, although he had ideas for more disciplining via drills. 

And so drills they did—mindless, repetitive, and _painful_ drills. 

Kylo was already still battling the agony that his bruises and contusions sent throughout his body whenever he moved, but he felt like it wasn’t enough again. He needed to be punished too for his part in his Knights’ failures. If he was a better Master, they wouldn’t make such stupid mistakes. 

And so they practiced Soresu with more droids, and then once that wasn’t enough, they practiced catching stunner bolts with the Force. He was hit once or twice, and that was all it took for his powers to be strong enough to stop four bolts at once. He wasn’t struck again. 

The Knights were still having their secret conversations between drill sets as the droids were set up. It was infuriating. Kylo _hated_ it. He couldn’t stand it anymore, but he wouldn’t tell them that, he would not stoop to such childishness. And so, he decided to punish them by making them responsible for the other’s pain instead.

He commanded one Knight to stand several speeder lengths before a droid, no weapons, no Force, so that the other Knight would have to stop the stunner blasts instead. 

Tomaxx was well-balanced still, and kept Cseenan from being hit by all but three bolts. 

But the Barabel was like a cracked egg; one small amount of pressure was sure to make him crumble. He stopped several bolts, but one slipped through, hitting the Chiss in the stomach. 

Tomaxx took the blast well, barely doubling over, but as another one hit him, and then another one, his body became stiff with pain. And Cseenan’s concentration could not stand it. For every bolt he did not catch, his wrath grew, yes, but also his despair. His self-hatred. His self-doubt.

Eventually, after Tomaxx took a bolt to the chest and fell down to one knee with a strangled, choking groan, Cseenan snarled, catching and directing the next bolt straight at Kylo’s head. 

Kylo stopped it easily, redirecting it to the wall with a wave of his hand, and then gripped the Barabel’s throat in the Force with the same movement, lifting him up, up, up, seeing red, his fury rising with the Knight, _how fucking **dare** he try to stun him,_ and then with a yell of guttural ferocity, Kylo slammed Cseenan down onto the durasteel. 

The Master stalked to the stunned Knight, towering over him as he struggled to push himself up to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth as he coughed and gasped for air. 

Somehow Kylo had ignited his saber without realizing it, the air pulsing with darkness, with hate, with wrath, and as sinister voices whispered in his head, telling him to do it, to raise his saber and bring it down on the Barabel, Kylo spied in his peripherals that evil spectral, that grinning shadow, its dead voice slithering into his mind, _‘cullinnng the heerrrdd’_ , and then there were rocks where durasteel should have been, and a voice yelling for him to stop, and Cseenan looked up at him with wide, and yet resigned eyes, and Kylo switched off his saber with a trembling hand, his head shaking, voice inaudible to his own ears as he commanded them to meditate for the rest of the day, ignoring Tomaxx as he asked something, ignoring the grinning shadow, turning from everything, everyone, and marching stiffly out of the suffocating training room. 

Kylo returned to his rooms, threw his saber to the floor, pulled off his mask, and screamed until his voice gave out.

* * *

  
xxOOOOXxxXOOOOxx

* * *

  
Out of all the things to take pleasure and pride in, Tomaxx Ren found Knowing Things to be best of the lot. 

It was his trade, his modus operandi in the groundwork he and Cseenan had been doing, and they had made a very effective team in tracking down sources and information—with Tomaxx in their heads and Cseenan on their scent. 

If you know what people are thinking, if you know what they expect, what they hope, what they fear, then they can be manipulated, they can be lead. It was part of Tomaxx’s conditioning, in a sense, to be able to read people, to know how to speak to them and how to act around them to get what he wanted.

He did not need to hear Cseenan’s thoughts to know the Barabel. He was a simple creature, with simple wants and needs, simple fears. They did share a unique way of wordless communication through the Force, facilitated by Tomaxx’s conditioning and Cseenan’s innate animal senses. But it did not take much for the Chiss to read his fellow Knight beyond that. The same could be said for Master Kylo, although the man was a bit more complicated. But Tomaxx could read him, even if he couldn’t hear his thoughts.

But Tomaxx couldn’t read this mess. He did not know what happened the day Cseenan had come back to the Situation room with bloodlust written all over him. When Tomaxx had tried to dip into the frenzied thoughts, he’d found himself promptly thrown out of the Barabel’s mind and almost sliced by his claws. 

Cseenan refused to tell him why. 

And then the slave girl had ended up in the medbay, with Master Kylo insanely mad at Cseenan, growing more and more wrathful every day, and it didn’t take long for Tomaxx to figure out that somehow the girl’s hospitalization, Master’s anger, and Cseenan’s berserker state were all connected.

He just didn’t know _why._

Cseenan had disobeyed Master’s order to go to the training room. But where had he gone instead? To Master’s rooms, to find the girl? But if he’d found the girl, she’d have ended up just another pile of carnage on very large mountain of bloodlust feedings the Barabel had built. 

No, Master was too angry, too unreasonably upset about his disobedience for it to be as simple as not going to the training room.

Tomaxx frowned. He _hated_ not knowing.

Things were reaching a boiling point between Cseenan and Master, and Tomaxx did not want to see the fallout should Cseenan truly attack the man. He was rather _fond_ of the Barabel, in spite of such feelings being practically forbidden in their line of work, in their Way of Ren. He did not want Cseenan to be cast out or killed. 

Cseenan was his _friend,_ for lack of a better word. 

The fact that Master had passed the punishment on for Captain Phasma to dole out earlier—with cleaning, of all things—had been an insult almost on par with calling Cseenan a shorttail. 

Tomaxx was miffed that he’d been included in that, but he knew it was likely due to the accusations he’d levied against Master in the Situation room. But even so, cleaning the commissary was tame compared to what the punishment could have been, what Tomaxx has experienced before. 

But that had just been the tip of the iceberg. He should have known their Master was not finished punishing them. Their drills afterward had been tedious at best, and downright lethal at worst. It was almost like Master Kylo was trying to ignite their tempers on purpose—which, Tomaxx supposed, would serve to make the Dark side of the Force more easily accessible, but without control it would be impossible to truly harness.  
  
And Cseenan Ren had very quickly lost control. 

Even without all of the recent conflict, the Barabel had trouble focusing on the Force at times. It was his greatest weakness, but he had made remarkable headway since Kylo had become Master. That the main source of his achievements was now the source of his regression was unacceptable to the Chiss. Cseenan should have been able to stop far more stunner bolts, but his confidence had faltered, especially once Tomaxx’s pain had reached un-maskable levels. 

The Barabel had been receiving some substantially hard mental blows since the day the slave had gone comatose. Master’s biting comments today had been especially impacting, had been especially efficient in dealing a near-terminal strike without the use of a traditional weapon. 

And then there was the lightning. Objectively Tomaxx could appreciate the stunning amount of dark power it took to create such an ability. But having it directed towards themselves put a bit of a damper on his awe. They had all felt it before from Snoke, so the Knight knew the Barabel’s nerve endings must still be on fire from the blow he took in the Archives room.

Tomaxx could sense the imbalance in Cseenan, could feel the chaos growing stronger in his mind, making it more and more difficult for him to control his hindbrain. It was only a matter of time before he did something truly indefensible, like killing a trooper.

But Master was just as shaken—if not more— beneath his stony veneer. That he had seemed to almost strike the Knight dead with his saber after slamming him to the floor, that he had suddenly been overwhelmed with a cascade of darkness and emotions too chaotic for Tomaxx to read, told the Chiss that his Master was perhaps more imbalanced than he let on.

Tomaxx had an idea of the source. He just didn’t know _why._

Now late into the ship’s night-cycle, Tomaxx made his way through the corridors and hallways, like a shadow—unseen and unnoticed by the majority of passersby. 

With how tense things had gotten lately, and especially with Cseenan’s episode in the commissary, there were more than a couple morbidly curious side-eyes directed his way this time around. It did not serve him well to be noticed, but he would just act the same as always—silent, unassuming, unthreatening. They would ignore him again soon enough when they accepted him as just another cog in the machine.

The Chiss entered medbay two without hesitation, the presence of the slave girl like a glaring light on his senses. Her mind was closed, but with her unconscious state it wouldn’t be difficult to break through her mental defenses and find the information he was after. 

He just needed to _know._ If not to try and see if he could fix this ridiculous mess that Master and Cseenan had gotten into, then at least to know _why_ it had all broken down in the first place. 

“You can’t be here,” a stormtrooper told him as he approached the bacta tank. 

Tomaxx stopped, observing the man, peering into the thoughts floating on the surface of his mind. He had a strong psyche—he was more difficult to read than most. Evidently Master had told him to keep everyone away, which irritated the Knight. 

“My Master wished me to check on the girl,” Tomaxx told him calmly, confidently. “He is occupied, or he would do it himself.” His master was likely asleep, late as the hour was. But the trooper needn’t know that.

“Only medical personnel are permitted past this point,” the trooper stated firmly. 

Tomaxx shifted his weight, giving a small put-upon sigh, as if bored. “Do you want to be the one to tell Lord Ren that I wasn’t able to do his bidding because of you, or should I do it for you?”

The soldier was conflicted. His thoughts went back and forth between not wanting to be on the laser end of Kylo’s sword for either infraction—letting non-medical personnel through, or not letting his Knight fulfill his command. Tomaxx knew when the trooper resigned himself to a decision, but kept himself from any outward reaction.

“Fine,” the trooper grumbled, stepping out of the Chiss’s path. “But be quick.”

Tomaxx gave him a shallow nod, proceeding to the tank. 

He looked down at the girl floating so innocently in the bacta— such a plain, frail creature that caused so many problems without even knowing about it. He almost wished he could hate her for it, but she had no say in what had happened to her. Master had stolen her from her homeworld and brought her into a fight she very likely would never have been impacted by had she lived out her pitiful life on Jakku. 

He almost felt bad for doing this to her, but he wouldn’t let himself feel anything. It was for the best, for the good of the Knights, and for the sake of his Master, who was obviously more affected by the girl than he was aware of or willing to accept.

The trooper shifted anxiously behind Tomaxx, his thoughts centering around telling him to leave already. Wondering how long he would be here. 

Tomaxx laid a hand on the transparisteel, closed his eyes, and pushed out his senses. There was a time limit before the trooper became too nervous and forced him out, but, 

This wouldn’t take him long.

* * *

  
~~OOOO~*~OOOO~~

* * *

  
Rey could feel something dark approaching, but it wasn’t the hurting shadow. It was something else—more ‘dark’ like oil, like water that you know has something in it, but it’s too deep and murky to see. It filled her with a kind of dread, a roiling in her stomach and a tightening of her chest. She shivered, hoping it would just pass by, as it had in the past. 

But no. It got closer and closer, until she knew it was right next to her, right in her space. 

She pulled further into herself, hoping it would go away when it couldn’t sense any activity from her. She was so close to being ready to go out. She just needed a little bit more time. Just a little bit more warmth and safety—

The dark oily thing cut into her mind like a sharp knife, pushing through her measly defenses as if it was gauze cloth. She shuddered from the shock of it—she was so used to the seeping way the sad shadow usually entered— and then abandoned her attempts to appear asleep and tried to push it out. 

The oily thing was not so acquiescing as the shadow though. _Not at all._ It pressed down on her further, incensed by her resistance, astounded by it just as the shadow had been, but it evidently had a purpose in being here, and it was not going to let anything stop it. 

She pushed and fought, almost seeming to be winning for a moment, until the oily intruder gave up all pretenses of care and just, _flooded_ her mind. She felt as if there were a hundred hands, gripping her, pulling her, holding her down, grabbing her, and she just couldn’t fight them off, she couldn’t move, and then the oily thing slid further, deeper into her mind, into her memories, pulling up her last moments awake. If Rey could scream in this place, she would have.

No no no _nononoNO._

_Get out GET OUT_

_STOP_

It either couldn’t hear her or was ignoring her pleas, her cries, her whimpering and begging. 

The one small boon was that it wasn’t malicious; just cold, unfeeling. She could feel no joy or pleasure from it as it invaded her thoughts and memories, but it did not mean she was any less terrified, any less violated by it. 

It took note of her conversation with Lord Ren at the table, was slightly amused by her tantrum and outburst, but pushed past it all to the corridor. Here it watched avidly, made her relive the terror, the horrible feeling of knowing she was going to die at the hands of the Barabel, watching Lord Ren arrive to stop him, again and again, and she just wanted it to STOP, just wanted to go back to her dark haven, her safe space, and she struggled anew, pushing and shoving and fighting the invisible hands holding her down. 

It tried to placate her with what was supposed to be a soothing caress, but it felt _all wrong_ , it felt oily and _greasy_ and she bucked and thrashed, but that only made it frustrated, that only made it tighten it’s hold, painfully now, the veins of its reach spreading, deeper still, through the days leading up to it, through the days on Jakku, the market, the trek to Niima Outpost, the beatings, the anger from Troog, the ‘incident’—

Here it hit a wall. 

It tried to dig in, tried to break it down, and Rey felt like someone was taking a hammer to her skull, felt like when one of Vins’ other child slaves had shoved her into a rocky ledge and her head had split open—like pain and blood and _panic._

Rey wasn’t sure how she did it, but somehow she managed to pull even more into herself, trying to get away from it. Trying to run from the hands and the drilling and the unfeeling curiosity. 

She just didn’t want to see what it found there. She didn’t want to feel any of it. 

And so, like turning off a light, suddenly everything went completely black. 

And Rey didn’t feel, or see, or think, _anything_ anymore. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End scene synopsis: Rey experiences Tomaxx (AKA the 'dark, oily thing') going into her mind. When she tries to resist, he more or less holds her subconscious down while he goes through her memories of the Corridor scene where Kylo rescues Rey from Cseenan. He then goes back further, to her time on Jakku, and finds the dark thing, the 'incident', hidden there. As he very painfully tries to break into it, Rey pulls into herself more, detaching her waking mind from it all and plunging herself into black unfeelingness. 
> 
> Yeahhhhhhhhh. Yikes, guys. 
> 
> So a loooot happened in this chapter. I'm curious what you guys think of it. Did you pick up any interesting little details? Let me know what you think it means. I'm very curious 👀
> 
> Next chapter!!!!!!!!: Things finally come to head as Tomaxx confronts Kylo about what's been going on....
> 
> Posting date: Friday, May 15th, 8PM Japan time


	33. The Blip or the Cliff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo is confronted by Tomaxx, and by the ghosts of his past he's been desperately trying to keep away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *w h e e z e*

* * *

  
Kylo woke up blearily, still fully dressed and lying on the floor of his entryroom. He had no idea what time it was, although the lights were on, which either meant it was soon to be night-cycle, or he had slept the whole night here and it was morning. 

He shakily pushed himself up to sitting, distantly observing the warping of the durasteel floor around him. He must have lost control, must have pushed the Force out like a bomb, to make something like this happen. 

Looking around, Kylo tried to see if anything else was damaged, but everything was the same. The same white panels, the same couch, the same shelves beyond. 

Some of the items had fallen. 

His eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion hitting him. He would have to go pick them up. It seemed like a monumental task.

He lurched to his feet, stumbling to the steps, looking down at what had dropped. Some trinkets from a mission, an ancient compass, and the book. 

_No,_ he would not be picking them up. Not right now. And especially not the book. His whole body felt fragile, like it was just one push away from shattering. Touching the book and feeling what Force memories it held…would undo him completely. 

Girl’s nest was still there, untouched. There was only the datapad and what looked like half of a dried-out bread roll. He needed to figure out what to do with her sleeping arrangements. But.

He turned and went to his bedroom instead, spying the time on the bedside chrono. It was morning. He should wash and get ready for the day. 

It took him too long to undress, and when he looked down at his bruised body, he felt none of the pride from before. Just emptiness. 

His shower was cold, and it helped numb him further. He was tired of pain. 

But the chill wasn’t enough to block out the memories that came up from yesterday in the training room. The anger, the darkness, the whispering wraith.  
  
Cseenan, on his knees. Kylo, gripping his saber, blood singing in his veins.

_NO._

Kylo slammed the shower controls, sending the water to burning levels of heat, then back to frigidly cold, back and forth. His skin prickled from the drastic temperature changes, and when it started to become painful, he shut the water off completely, standing stiffly, dripping and trembling, cursing at himself for doing something so stupid. He was trying to avoid anymore pain. Why did he do that? 

He was so fucking stupid.

Kylo dried and dressed with jerking motions, ignoring the breakfast on his table and picking up his helmet and saber from their resting spots on the entryroom floor before heading stiffly to the Situation room.

He would block everything out with research on Phu and nearby tradeposts. He should have sent his Knights to go after the _Falcon,_ but perhaps there was time later today, or tomorrow. 

He settled into a chair at the holotable to read, placing his helmet to the side, unable to stand the feel of it constricting his head, but his eyes couldn’t focus, his mind was a whirling mass of so much, too much. He stood and tried pacing, hoping the movement would help settle his mind, coming back to the table every now and then to stand and read.

It wasn’t long before Tomaxx found him.

The Chiss entered silently, stood in front of the door as it hissed shut behind him. And then he removed his helmet.

“Cseenan didn’t just disobey your orders to go to the training room,” he said, apropos of nothing. “He went out and hunted the girl. That’s what started all of this, what it’s all been about, isn’t it?”

Kylo grit his teeth, his face twitching in irritation. “Cseenan told you?”

Tomaxx placed his helmet down on the table, venturing closer. 

“You’ve only known this girl for two weeks, Master, only five of those days conscious. Cseenan has been at your side for over three years, fighting for you and serving you. He’s hunted others before, sometimes important sources for us, and aside from a small reprimand you never seemed to give it much thought. So why are you so upset over this?”

“He didn't just _hunt her_ ,” Kylo spat, standing fully from his stooped posture. “He put himself between me and her, he _challenged_ me, he was going to _kill her_ and he almost forced me to—“ he cut himself off and then turned away with a guttural sound of anger.

_“Just culling the herd, Princey Boy—“_

_Shut up shut UP._

Tomaxx was silent behind him, a sudden dawning understanding coming from him. It almost felt like pity, and Kylo _hated_ it.

The chiss’s quiet voice spoke up. 

“Master, Cseenan is _not_ Visser Ren.”

Kylo spun back around, roaring, _“But I almost fought and killed him just the same!”_ His loud voice rang in the empty room, chasing the ghosts away for a moment. 

He continued, a vein pulsing in his neck with the force of his outrage. 

“Cseenan _knows_ what I am capable of, he _knows_ what I have done in the past, and he was the cause of it! To put me in that position again, where I have to decide whether to fight my comrade to spare the life of another is _selfish of him_ , and he deserves to be _agonized_ by that.”

Tomaxx held Kylo in a steady gaze, brows drawn down.

“Is Girl a comrade, Master? Again, you’ve only known her for two weeks. Cseenan had been training alongside us for almost a year when you killed Visser to save him. What is it about this girl that has captured your protection so quickly? I would say that it is because she is female but you’ve never treated Captain Phasma or the female troopers this way.”

Kylo breathed, his lips pressing together tightly. _Don’t. Don’t say it, don’t—_

He spoke, a broken murmur, “Can’t you feel it?”

Tomaxx’s frown deepened. “Feel what?”

Kylo looked down, eyes searching for the words to convey the feelings he’d been wrought with for the past several days. 

“There’s something about her. Something different, something strange. I didn’t know exactly what it was on Jakku, I didn’t feel it then, but now I…”

Her voice, calling out to him. Her Force signature, like a blazing bonfire, consuming and riling up the energy within and around her. Even her tiny flame, flickering away amongst the darkness on the ship…

He’d never seen anything quite like it before. Not from his mother, or uncle, or anyone at the Jedi Temple. Not even his Knights carried such a unique Force presence. Such an alluring aura.

He took a small breath. “This feeling I have around her….” He swallowed, his throat tight all of a sudden. 

“I feel like she’s a ledge on a cliff, and I know that if I get too close I’ll fall off into _something,_ some unknown abyss, and yet… in spite of my survival instincts telling me otherwise…I’m drawn _forward.”_

He looked up to see Tomaxx’s expression of stern concern. The Chiss shook his head slowly.

“You should send her away. As soon as she’s cleared by the medbay, drop her off at the nearest planet and never think of her again. She is distracting you, Master. We have a plan, we have a mission. Don’t let her ruin everything we have been working towards—“

Kylo slammed his fist down. _“No,_ I will not abandon her. She is _not_ a distraction. She can help us, remember? Your plan to use her to end Skywalker could work.”

“But we need to _find him_ first,” Tomaxx argued, “and that’s not going to go quickly if we— _all of us_ —are not focused on the task.”

“Do not lecture _me_ on what it is we need to do, Tomaxx Ren,” Kylo seethed. “I am not the one distracted; it is Cseenan who needs to learn focus. It is his lack of control that has led us to this point.”

“Is it?” Tomaxx stared at Kylo with unblinking, knowing eyes. “The reason she’s in the medbay is not due to Cseenan’s nature, Master. It wasn’t Cseenan who neglected her.” 

_“Silence,”_ Kylo hissed. “I will not be spoken to this way.” 

_“Kylo,”_ The Knight pleaded angrily. “She’s hiding something. She has something _walled away_ inside her _mind—”_

The master stood rigid, face thunderous, a feeling of betrayal and something possessive piercing him.

“Have you been sneaking around the medbay? Against my direct orders? _Going into her mind?”_

Tomaxx returned his indignant look with stoic coldness. “I do what I believe is best for all of us, even if it means committing insubordination.” 

Kylo returned the expression with his own seething coldness. “And so by that you mean to say that I don’t know what’s best for all of us? Have you lost faith in me so quickly, Tomaxx Ren? Am I no longer the leader that you gave an oath to serve?” The thought made his chest constrict.

The Chiss parried with a dull tone. “Are Cseenan and I no longer the apprentices you swore to teach and protect? Has this girl nullified _your_ oaths to _us?”_

“She will _never_ do that,” Kylo stated with the emphatic slice of his hand. “Never. She’s not a threat to you, Tomaxx. Nor to our goals. She may have caught my interest, but she’s harmless; a mere blip on the grand scheme of my radar. I am still focused on our mission. Or have I not been here, beside you and Cseenan researching? Have I not been training you?”

“You have, Master. But you are distracted. You’ve spent hours by her side.”

_“Because my initial neglect of her nearly killed her!”_ He roared, frustration and fury exploding in his veins. “I am _trying_ to be better, I am _trying_ to learn from my mistakes. I am searching for the map, I am training you and Cseenan, I am keeping Supreme Leader content, meditating, reading the Sith holochrons, and communing with Darth Vader, but apparently this isn’t enough! So tell me, Tomaxx, tell me what it is I should do to be a better leader to you. How should I conduct myself, hm? Should I take walks around the ship? Listen to _gossip?”_

Tomaxx tensed, his expression darkening. His voice was quiet. 

“The ‘gossip’ I pick up on during my walks helps keep us abreast of underground ship news, Master. It has always helped us. It is not simply for my health.”

Kylo swept his arms out. “And how has it helped us with this mission? All it seems to have done is embroiled us in a melodrama with me and the girl in the center of it. How is that not a distraction? You’ve become obsessed with this idea that Girl and I have a secret relationship—“

“No, Master, that’s not—“

“—But what I really think, Tomaxx, is that you’re jealous of her.”

Tomaxx’s face twisted. _“What?”_

“You’re _jealous,_ Tomaxx. Of the attention that I’ve been giving her, as infrequent and obviously unnoticed by her as it has been. You acted similar to this when we inducted Cseenan. I didn’t realize until just now.”  
  
Tomaxx’s voice came out a dangerous whisper. “Do you think me a _child?”_

“No, Tomaxx,” Kylo replied testily. “But you are predictable.”

The Chiss’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? I’m _predictable?”_

“Yes.”

Tomaxx scoffed humorlessly.

“Well at least I’m not _confused._ At least I know myself. Here you are, telling me that you’re feeling things from her, things you’ve never experienced before in the Force, that you’re _distracted_ by those feelings, and yet you also tell me that you’re focused on the mission and that she’s nothing. So which am I to believe, Kylo? Which is it?” He stepped up closer, staring furiously with his bright red eyes. “Is she the _blip,_ or the _cliff?”_

Kylo didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t sure.

Or, he was, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, or to lie. 

Tomaxx nodded to himself, his master’s silence an answer on it’s own. 

“I suppose that partly explains why you’re so stubbornly angry with Cseenan about hunting her.” He took a deep breath in, letting out a sigh, face hardening. “But he is _not_ Visser. You and I both know, this was _much_ different than that. You know that Cseenan fixates on prey. It’s not really out of cruelty, and he hardly gets a choice in the matter. It’s his instincts; his hindbrain. But with proper direction and influence, he can be corrected.” Tomaxx shook his head, his face grave. “No, Master, we both know that Cseenan is not like Visser.”

Kylo breathed, shutting his eyes. He saw Cseenan, the one from his dreams, the twisted malformed version that was just _too_ corrupted, _too_ cruel. The version that tore off Tomaxx’s head and ripped apart Girl. 

But Kylo also knew the _real_ Cseenan. The one who would kill anyone who hurt Tomaxx. The one who had saved his own life, several times. The one that had stopped in the corridor when his master had commanded him to, and had tried to make amends the only way he knew how.

When Kylo opened his eyes again they were bleak.

“No, he’s not,” he agreed, his voice hoarse. His eyes sought Tomaxx’s, his whole being felt haunted. He thought he could keep this locked away forever. He thought he was strong enough to not let it affect him. His voice came out a broken whisper.

“I killed Visser.” He took in a tremulous breath, as if saying the words put a knife through his ribs. It was painful, like ripping open a wound that had never quite healed right. “I killed another Knight, Tomaxx; my comrade, my—“ He ground his teeth together, looking away.

They had never spoken of it again after it had been done. Kylo had been bequeathed the Master of the Knights of Ren by Snoke, and then Kylo had forbade speaking of it. He had just wanted to forget. 

He had killed Visser Ren, his _closest friend_ , to save Cseenan. 

But while Kylo had considered Visser practically a brother, he could not deny that the man had also been a complete sociopath. 

And he’d been out for Cseenan’s blood since day one. 

* * *

  
OOXXOO

* * *

  
“Well, well, well. Lookie what we have here,” Visser Ren sauntered up to the Barabel, his blue eyes bright and his boyish grin wide. He tossed his training saber towards Tomaxx without looking, and the Chiss caught it with only a hint of annoyance in his blue face. 

“A Barabel. How _exciting._ Can it speak?”

“Yes, Tesarth can speak,” the Barabel in question hissed with narrowing eyes. 

Visser made an excited face. “That’s a surprise! Usually your kind are more stupid than sentient.”

Tesarth growled and snapped his jaws at him, making him jump back with a laugh.

“Woahoho! There it is!”

“Brother, enough,” Kylo said, frowning. Visser had been similarly snarky to Tomaxx when he had joined, but not as insulting. “Tesarth has shown to be a worthy addition for the Ren. If he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be here. Now get ready for the induction ceremony; Supreme Leader Snoke is waiting."

Things did not get much better from there.

“You know what I was thinking?” Visser mused as they warmed up for combat practice a few days after the ceremony. No one answered him, but he continued anyways. “‘Cseenan’ could be shortened to ‘Csee-csee’, and ‘Csee-csee’ kindof sounds like ‘sissy’.” 

Kylo and Tomaxx exchanged glances while Cseenan Ren bristled quietly. 

“Let’s not, Visser,” Kylo said with a warning frown. 

“Ohh!” The blond Knight threw his hands up. “The Prince disapproves. My apologies, Your Majesty,” he made a sweeping bow and Kylo shook his head and turned away, meeting Tomaxx’s frustrated gaze. Kylo just shrugged, knowing Visser and his aggravating ways. Sometimes it was better to just ignore him, lest things escalated. 

But over time, things escalated to distracting levels anyways between the two Knights, especially as Visser began using his particular gift from the Force. 

He had a penchant for mind manipulations, and took gleeful pride in causing people to see horrible, terrifying things. Kylo had quickly learned to wall up his mind whenever he felt Visser trying to sneak his way in, and Tomaxx had managed to do the same, but Cseenan had yet to perfect his mental shields. He was still vulnerable. 

In the training room the attention was drawn to Cseenan, who suddenly snarled, claws out, body crouched, scales bristling as he stared with black eyes at Tomaxx. The Chiss was startled in his stony way, only the tensing of his body and the crease between his brows showing his alertness. 

“What?” He asked. They had just finished a bout of hand-to-hand combat, and Tomaxx was unwrapping his fists.

Cseenan spoke, but it wasn’t in any language they knew, the words sounding like growling hisses. Tomaxx glanced at Kylo, then back at Cseenan.

“Cseenan, what—“

The Barabel snarled something and took several aggressive steps towards him, his stance challenging, chest puffed and arms out. His tail twitched and his neck scales bristled with threatening intent. 

Kylo took a step, his hand brushing his saber, ready to jump in to help the unarmed Tomaxx should the Barabel attack, but _why—_

He heard a snicker and turned to look at Visser, who was stood, staring intently at Cseenan, his eyes darkly focused the way they do whenever he—

Cseenan lunged at Tomaxx and Kylo shoved Visser's shoulder, breaking his concentration with a loud, “Brother, _enough!”_

Cseenan had Tomaxx on the ground beneath him, one clawed hand embedded in the Chiss’s collarbone and shoulder, then other raised to slash, but a great shudder went through the Barabel in the instant Visser’s influence was broken, and with a blink and a shake of his head, Cseenan’s eyes became amber again. 

He looked down, confusion in the line of his tilted head, and then he let Tomaxx pull his claws from his shoulder, the Chiss groaning in pain and cursing in his own language.

“Tomaxx—!“ Cseenan rasped, dismayed, moving to get off him. 

“It’s fine,” Tomaxx ground out, a hand pressed to stop the blood as he sat up. “Probably just needs bacta. But what the kriff happened?”

Visser laughed quietly behind his hand, but the shaking of his shoulders betrayed him and all eyes were drawn by the movement. And in that moment they knew what had happened.

Kylo didn’t understand where Visser’s cruel attention was coming from, as he was never this antagonistic before. He had always chalked it up to a sort of hazing of Cseenan, since he was the newest recruit. But this time Visser had involved Tomaxx as well. And it had been nine months since Cseenan had joined them.

Kylo wanted to tell Visser off, to punish him, but he had no authority and the blond Knight was always mocking Kylo for acting like he did. Always making Kylo feel guilty for doubting him.

_“Fuck, Princey, why do you always gotta control everything? You’re almost as bad as Skywalker._

_I’m older than you, Kylo. I’m the ‘big brother’, right? So just trust me. Just let me be._

_We’ve always been close, haven’t we? Have I ever done you wrong, Princey?_

_Why do you always act like I've never helped you? It would do you well to show me some gratitude, for getting us to where we are. The others at the Jedi Temple, they were always ganging up on you, always making you feel like shit._

_I was always there for you, Kylo._

_I was the only one who cared.”_

Visser was right, and Kylo accepted his words with a resigned nod. He felt like his connection with Visser was a benefit to him, but it strained things between himself and Tomaxx and Cseenan. It felt like a faction was growing, and he wasn’t sure how it would end, but he sensed it wouldn't end well.  
  
The day his loyalties were put to the ultimate test seemed so normal. The four of them were on a mission to find a hidden Sith holochron on a rocky planet near the Outer Rim.   
  
Visser had gone with Cseenan to create a distraction away from the guarded temple, allowing Kylo and Tomaxx to slip in, kill the rest of the guards, and grab the holochron. 

“Take it back to the ship,” Kylo told Tomaxx, his head turning, a bad feeling tightening his chest. “I’m going to get the others.”

“Alright,” The Chiss nodded, a strained pinch to his face that told Kylo he felt the Bad Feeling too. 

Kylo followed the blips from his locator, telling him where the others were, and came across Visser, standing looking out from a cliff edge. 

“Visser,” Kylo called as he ran up. “Where’s Cseenan?”

The blond Knight shrugged. “He took a bit of a tumble.”

Kylo frowned, looking down at his locator, seeing that Cseenan was supposed to be right there with them. And then he heard the groan, and looked down the ledge of the cliff to see the Barabel lying twenty feet below, one leg very obviously broken.

_“Cseenan!”_ Kylo called down, and started running towards where the cliff sloped down to the bottom. It took some scrabbling on rocks, but he managed to get to the Barabel and look over his wounds. 

He lifted his comm to his lips, “Tomaxx! Cseenan is hurt, we need help bringing him back.”

There was a reply but it was too staticky to understand. Kylo stood and moved towards the more open space, away from the rocks and the Barabel.

“Repeat, Tomaxx, there was interference.”

_“kKSHHT—How bad?”_

“His leg is fractured. Bring bacta and a splint.”

_“I’ll be there in ten minutes,”_ was the quick reply.

Visser sauntered over to the fallen Knight, a bored look on his face. Kylo watched him, tensing as the blond man ignited his lightsaber. 

“Visser?”

Cseenan was looking up at Visser with pure hatred, fueled by the immense pain from his leg and other contusions from the fall that his scales had not prevented. Visser raised his arm, and Kylo took a step forward, his heart pounding.

“What are you doing? STOP.”

Visser Ren turned and grinned, eyes bright with crazed malice. “Just culling the herd, Princey Boy. Sissy here has been holding us back; he’s like a broken finger that just wont set right. Sometimes you just gotta…snip it off. Like this! Watch—“ Suddenly the blond man brought down his saber on Cseenan’s tail, slicing through it, cutting off at least five inches and eliciting a rasping roar of pain from the Barabel. 

Visser laughed and jumped out of the way of Cseenan’s swiping claws, his bright blue eyes finding Kylo’s wide gaze of barely concealed horror. 

“I heard they can grow back their tails, but I wonder if they can do it for legs? For arms? For _heads?_ Let's find out, Princey.” He brought his saber up high in a two-handed grip, meant for a killing blow.

Kylo felt everything slow down, saw the look of resigned agony in Cseenan’s eyes, felt something pierce through him in sudden blinding speed, and realized he had moved and blocked Visser’s slice with his own saber before the thought to do so had fully formed in his mind. 

Visser seemed neither betrayed nor angry, but even more gleeful by the change in situation. 

Kylo set his face in stern fury. “Visser, _stop this_. Cseenan is one of us. He is a _Knight—.”_  
  
“Is he?” Visser hissed between bared teeth. “He looks _dead_ to me.” The man pushed Kylo away and stepped back, raising his saber again, but the dark haired man caught his footing quickly and lunged with a guttural snarl, blocking him again.

“Visser, STOP!” 

“You always were so weak, Kylo, so _sentimental,”_ the Knight spat, his voice becoming light with mockery. “Little Ben Solo, the little baby Prince. You’re so readable, so _predictable.”_ He stopped to look over at Cseenan, who was panting and looking every bit someone who was fighting not to pass out. 

“Did you know, Cseenan?” Visser called, and the Barabel jerked, head swinging around. “Did Princey ever tell you? Even at Skywalker’s temple, I had to be the one to kill everyone because all he was able to do was burn things and _cry.”_

Kylo sliced at him with a bellow of rage, and they parried, sabers clashing, red sparks flying from the force of their combined furies. 

“I almost killed Skywalker,” Kylo hissed between jabs. "It was you who was too afraid of him to even try!”

“And you _failed,”_ Visser sneered. “And now he’s disappeared, probably training more Jedi as we speak. I’m sure he's probably already found some new _precious prodigy_ to replace you, although I’m sure it wasn't hard. You are ** _nothing_** — nothing in the Skywalker legacy and nothing compared to Darth Vader.”  
  
Kylo roared as he lunged, not wanting to hear Visser’s words, not wanting to give them even an inch to worm their way inside him, but both Knights knew they already had. Visser just cackled gleefully, twisting around and blocking Kylo’s advances, toying with him by using whistling and clicks of his tongue—as if playing with an animal.

“Ohohoho, you're gonna have to be better, Benny boy, Sissy isn't looking too hot over there.”

Kylo glanced over, saw the Barabel collapsed fully now, and hoped that Tomaxx was close-by. He narrowly missed getting bisected by Visser’s blade in his moment of distraction, just managing to careen backwards. The next few moments were of him, dodging Visser’s vicious swings, the blond man becoming more and more frenzied with each pass, screaming, “You’re a WEAK….PATHETIC…CHILD.” 

Kylo tried to block with his saber, but Visser twisted his hilt, locking their holds, and then _wrenched_ Kylo’s blade from his grip. It flew, turning off, clattering some twenty feet away, and then Visser punched Kylo in the face and kicked him to the ground.

Kylo scrambled back, a hand raised as if that was going to stop a lightsaber, and Visser giggled, white teeth bared, bright blue eyes wide. 

Kylo shook his head. “Brother, _please—“_

“ _Brother please!”_ Visser mocked with a twisted face. “Brother, don’t! Brother this! Brother THAT!” He rolled his eyes. “I never should have started that lie. I was never your brother, Kylo,” he said darkly, his stare electric as he raised his saber up. “We both know you were never good enough for a family.” 

He took in a breath, tensing, muscles bunching and pulling to bring the saber down, and Kylo felt a sense of deja vu as his eyes alit on a rocky overhang above them, and with his outstretched hand he reached and _pulled_ with the Force, bringing a rock the size of his head directly down on the back of Visser’s skull. 

The Knight made a strangled noise, his arms dropping as deadweight, his saber falling to the ground as he collapsed to a knee. His hand came up and felt the back of his head, coming away bloodied, and his dazed blue eyes rose to meet Kylo’s as the dark-haired Knight stood. 

“Fuck you, _Ben Solo_ ,” Visser slurred. “You’ll _never_ be anything great.”

And then Visser threw his hand out, pulling with the Force on the rocks above Cseenan, as if to bring the Barabel with him in death still, and Kylo had Visser’s saber in his hand in a second, slicing across with a scream of rage, cutting off Visser’s grinning head in one clean arc. 

The head dropped and rolled, and the body fell beside it.

Kylo heard the sound of the rock face crumbling and threw up both hands with the Force to stop the boulders from falling and crushing Cseenan, who was now almost unconscious where he lay.

The rocks kept falling, kept gathering in the net of Force he had thrown up, but it was getting heavier and heavier to hold, and Cseenan wasn't moving.

“Cseenan! Get up!” 

A torso-sized rock slipped from the mass, falling near the Barabel. Too close. 

_“CSEENAN!”_

“Kylo!”

The Knight turned his head, seeing Tomaxx Ren hurrying towards him. 

“Tomaxx, get Cseenan!”

The Chiss paused for only a second, red eyes wide at the state of Visser’s body, before he noticed the Barabel and ran over to pull his body out of the way. As soon as they were clear, Kylo let the stones drop with a great rumbling thunder, his sudden lack of energy almost forcing him to his knees.   
  
The air was quiet but for a breeze rustling the dry trees above them, and for Kylo’s heavy breathing. He looked down, vision wavering as he distantly observed Visser’s body. Visser’s headless corpse. 

Kylo shut his eyes, lurching away from it. 

“How’s Cseenan?” He asked in a hoarse voice as he approached the other two Knights.

“He’ll live,” Tomaxx answered, tightening the splint and eliciting a guttural growl from the Barabel. The Chiss, satisfied with the leg, then began applying an emergency bacta patch to the stump of Cseenan’s tail, even though the saber had cauterized the wound upon slicing it. 

Tomaxx looked behind Kylo, then up at him. 

“What happened to Visser?”

Kylo pressed his lips together tightly, willing his face to be impassive, willing himself to be unexpressive. _‘You’re so readable, so **predictable—‘** _

He knew what he wanted the armory to make for him, for them all, when they got back to the ship. He would not be deemed _readable_ anymore after this.

“He was killed,” was what Kylo ground out. 

“Who—“

“We need to get Cseenan back.” Kylo stooped down and took hold of Cseenan’s arm. “Grab him. Let’s go.”

“Kylo—"

“I said LET’S GO.” Kylo looked at Tomaxx, hoping his face wasn't trembling, hoping it was conveying the deadly seriousness of his mood. 

Tomaxx looked back at him, his brow furrowed, and then silently nodded, picking up Cseenan’s other arm to help carry him back.

They left the body and the head, lit aflame to leave no evidence, but took the saber. Kylo had the shuttle fired up and ascending before Tomaxx could even ask about it again, and when they arrived back at the _Supremacy_ and Kylo became Master, not speaking of it was made immutable. 

* * *

  
OOXXOO

* * *

  
_“I killed Visser,”_ Kylo muttered brokenly.

“Yes, you did,” Tomaxx replied quietly, bluntly. 

“How can you trust me?” Kylo asked, the question that had been burning in the back of his mind for years. “How can you follow someone who killed an ally, a brother-in-arms?” 

Snoke taunted him about it still. About his _compassion._ About his ‘propensity for caring about lowly creatures.’ What kind of Dark Lord had sympathy? And what kind of strong leader would be haunted by something for such a long time?

Kylo tried so hard to be the leader his Knights deserved. Tried so hard to be the Dark Apprentice that Snoke desired. Tried so hard to be the Heir to the Vader legacy. 

And the fear of not living up to any of those expectations of him was _strangling._

He had killed Visser and he’s never forgiven himself for it, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. But by who’s moral standards had he done the deed? His own? Or the lingering moral attitudes from his Jedi learnings? 

Tomaxx frowned. “Visser was an ally to me the way a snake is ally to a raptor. We were both predators, but I never trusted him not to strike me dead one day.”

“I should have seen it,” Kylo murmured. “I should have done more to stop him.”

“He was your brother,” Tomaxx said back. “He was your friend.”

Yes, and Kylo had let himself become too attached to Visser. He was weak. Emotional. It had clouded his mind to the man’s sociopathy. But Kylo’s sentiments towards Cseenan had helped him save the Barabel. Was that weakness or strength?

“Is what I did for Cseenan not considered an act compassion?” He asked, searching Tomaxx’s face for any sign of disgust. “Can you follow such a _sentimental_ Master?”

The Chiss was thoughtful, observing Kylo silently for a moment. Analyzing him. 

“There is a marked difference between acts of compassion and acts of loyalty.” Tomaxx shook his head. “I do not think it was an act of compassion that drew you to cross sabers with Visser. It was your loyalty to Cseenan. To our way of life.”

“Our way of life would have had me agree with Visser. Would have probably had me join him in slaughtering Cseenan.”

“You were _never_ like Visser,” Tomaxx said assuredly. “You would never have killed Cseenan. Not on those rocks, and not in the corridor.” 

Kylo took in a deep breath, looking away, wishing he could turn himself to stone from the inside out. 

“You don’t know that,” he whispered.

“I do. And it has nothing to do with compassion or goodness. You are not falling prey to the Light side, Kylo. But you are an incredibly loyal man, a faithful master. I believe you would have incapacitated Cseenan to save Girl, but you wouldn’t have killed him.” 

Tomaxx’s words settled Kylo in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. He wouldn't have killed Cseenan. He wasn't falling prey to the Light side. He wasn’t being weak. 

“You’re a strong leader, Kylo,” Tomaxx said, making him jolt and check to make sure his thoughts were secure. “Flawed,” the Chiss added, “and stubborn,” he took in a deep breath, "but I’m proud to be a Knight of Ren, proud to be a Dark apprentice, because of _you._ And I know Cseenan feels the same way. We both know we’re better because of you, and we both trust you with our lives.”

Kylo felt his chest swell, felt an overwhelming surge of something powerful flooding through his veins. It made him want to beat his chest, roar until he was hoarse, and take whatever he wanted. In a flash between blinking he saw an image of himself on a throne, but he shoved it away, far, far down. 

“And I trust you with my own,” he answered, his voice thick with emotion. 

Tomaxx nodded, and a quietly charged moment passed as they both looked away and gathered themselves mentally. 

The Chiss smoothed his dark hair back with a hand, giving a long sigh. 

"I still think Girl is a distraction we don't need right now.”

“…I understand,” Kylo said in a low voice, because Tomaxx was correct. She was a distraction. "But she's one of us now,” he murmured, “even if not fully a Ren. And she's in that tank because I was too focused on everything else to properly look after her. I don't want to make that mistake twice.”

Tomaxx frowned, his lips thin as he thought. 

“I would be doing the same if you or Cseenan were there because of my actions,” Kylo added. Red eyes met human ones, and with begrudging, resigning understanding Tomaxx sighed again, nodding. 

“Yes, you would. You stubborn fool.”

“Easy,” Kylo droned with mock sternness. Tomaxx threw him a rare half-smile, just a flash of mirth before smoothing his features back into serious contemplation.

“Will you speak to Cseenan? Will you accept his challenge to duel?”

“Perhaps,” Kylo murmured. “I will think on it. I’m still pissed that he went after Girl, but a part of me feels more angry at myself for not—“

His words cut off, his senses flaring. 

Tomaxx frowned. “Master, what—?“

A moment later Kylo’s comm beeped, but he knew who it was and what they were going to tell him before he even answered it.  
  
It was Girl.

She had finally awoken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY.  
> JESUS FUCK.
> 
> Omg y'all, the crumbs I left throughout the past thirteen chapters. Seriously, if you go back and reread from chapter 20, you'll find soooooo many foreshadowing elements. *W H E E Z E*  
> I'm curious what y'all think of the big reveal of Visser Ren. He's another one of my OC Knights, although he's alive in my other fic.  
> Kylo's got all kinds of skeletons in his closet, doesn't he? 
> 
> I sure hope you enjoyed this end to part 2. Next chapter is a transition chapter to part 3 :) Which, you'll be happy to hear, has much, MUCh more Reylo interactions.
> 
> Also, some of you may know from my post on Tumblr, but my dog in America got sick about two weeks ago and had to be put down on Thursday, and I am, just, fucking done with 2020. Like, what the fuck? Anyways, not fishing for sympathy or anything, just need y'all to know that in spite of the universe's every attempt to make me drop this story, I am somehow still writing, and drawing. At this point I'm doing it out of spite. The universe can go fuck itself. 
> 
> Also #2, anyone who has anything negative to say about this chapter or this story can go fuck themselves too :) You're just going to receive one of my copy/paste responses, so you might as well not even bother with the hate. 
> 
> Next chapter: Rey finally wakes up.  
> Posting date: Because some of you have been waiting _very patiently_ , I'm going to post on Sunday, May 17th, 9PM Japan time. Monday I'm back to work after being home all week this week, and I would greatly enjoy reading some nice comments because I'm gonna be all kinds of gloomy. 
> 
> Love you guys <3
> 
> EdiT: MOAR FANART BY ME
> 
> ~Visser Ren~


	34. Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey wakes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the lovely comments last chapter! And thank you for the condolences about my dog ❤️ 
> 
> But now, without further ado, 
> 
> *throws confetti* 
> 
> 🥳✨ENJOY✨🥳

* * *

Rey drifted in blackness. It was neither warm nor cold. Just, unfeeling. 

She was supposed to be safe here. But she’d been invaded. She’d been hurt. 

Even in her safe place, she wasn’t protected from pain. 

She felt betrayed by it.

She didn’t want to be here, but she didn’t want to leave either. She just wanted nothing. She wanted _nothing._

* * *

She remembers one day, with Nybian, when their camp had stopped for a few months to harvest some desert yams and pasture the animals. There had been a pregnant etobi that the old master had helped deliver its calf. 

Rey had been assisting, mostly just sitting nearby, shaking from nerves and in terrified awe of the whole process, but wanting to be as good of help as she could be. 

There was blood, and goo, and the etobi was panting and groaning, its flank heaving painfully with its contractions, its mandibles trembling. And after almost ten hours, finally, by the light of the fire and the oil lamp, the etobi gave another great push, moaning, and with Nybian cooing and praising, a healthy calf squeezed out of the birthing canal, covered in embryonic fluid and blood and making little calf cries. 

Rey helped clean it up, amazed and thrilled and stunned, although she decided at the tender age of thirteen that she was never, ever having children, if this is what she had to look forward to. 

“And that’s how it’s done,” master Nybian said with a proud smile. 

“Does it usually take so long?” Rey asked as they watched the calf suckle, the mother exhausted but attentive as she continued to inspect and clean her newborn.

Nybian smoothed the mother’s flank, her eyes filled with tender affection. “Sometimes even longer, especially for humans. We’re a tough creature to deliver.”

Rey frowned, thinking of her own mother, wondering if she’d been worth the labor. Apparently not, in the end. Rey knew she should have been aborted.

Nybian nudged the young slave with her shoulder.

“I bet you were the cutest baby.”

Rey shook her head, looking down at her hands. 

“I bet I was hideous, covered in blood and slime. I bet they took one look at me and knew from the beginning that I would turn out like this.” _A worthless slave._

The old woman scoffed. “Oh, we’re all hideous when we first come out. But you don’t look at a newly birthed etobi calf and say to it, ‘you’re ugly and you’ll always be ugly’, do you? You don’t say to it, ‘you’re a useless baby and you’ll never be anything else’?”

Rey just gave a half shrug. 

“I guess,” she mumbled. 

Nybian gently touched the child’s face. “And you don’t have to have a use to be worth something, Rey. Just being alive is a great gift to the universe.” 

Rey pressed her cheek into the hand, staying silent. They both knew how she thought of herself. They both knew it was still in the process of being changed.

Nybian smoothed her thumb over Rey’s cheekbone, then drew her hand back. 

“Like butterflies. Have you ever seen what they look like, fresh out of their cocoon?”

The child shook her head. They didn’t have butterflies on Jakku, but she’d seen pictures on the holonet.

Nybian scrunched her nose. “Their wings are all wrinkled, and they’re covered in the goo of their own liquified larvae body.”

Rey made a face of disgust. Nybian laughed.

“See? Pretty gross stuff. But if you can see things for what they _really_ are instead of what they seem, you don’t look at that gooey bug and think, ‘That thing will never be beautiful.’ Because you know that once it cleans up, once it’s wings are dried and flattened out, well,” she rocked back. “They’re some of the most beautiful creatures in the galaxy.” She gave Rey a dazzling smile. “And what a gift they are, all on their own.” 

Rey’s mouth twitched into a small returning smile, but she knew she was no butterfly. She was an ugly worm, mistaken for something with good potential. She was a fake.

Nybian’s grin softened, her wrinkled eyes sad as she gently took the girl’s hands in her own.

“This is why it’s important to be patient, and kind to yourself,” she said.

“Sometimes we’re like a gooey bug, Rey. Sometimes we just need time and care to become the butterfly hidden beneath it all.”

* * *

There was a soft voice, humming a familiar tune. Rey felt enveloped in arms she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Her heart soared and broke—she was so happy and yet, filled with such heartbreaking longing. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay here in this place, wrapped in bittersweet nostalgia. 

_‘It’s time to wake up, Rey….’_

No, I can’t. I’m so tired still. I hurt again. I don’t want to feel anything.

_‘Sweet Rey, my little Reybeam…I know, I know….but It’s time….Wake up….’_

The blue glow was growing stronger. Starting as a small dot, it expanded to fill up the blackness, pushing out the voice, pushing out the numbness. 

Rey tried to resist it, tried to pull back, pull into herself again, but the glow was so strong, and she could feel things, she could hear things. 

There was something in her mouth, in her throat. There were things connected to her skin, wrapped around her. She was floating, but in something not air. Water? Was there this much water in the galaxy?

This time when Rey opened her eyes, she saw things. _Real_ things. 

She was in some kind of enclosed space, in blue liquid. Everything was blurry, and her eyes stung from whatever it was. She pushed her hands out in front of her, but there was something there, something on either side of her, and to her back, there was no place to go, there was no opening. 

Rey thrashed, not sure which way was up or down quite yet, half blind, and her fear rose. She could hear muffled beeping, could see blurry movement around her. There were things connected to her skin, lines and cords, and they pulled uncomfortably as she moved.

Suddenly there was a great clicking noise, a hissing whine, she could sense a gaping maw opening. Rey pushed up into freezing air, clawing and pulling herself halfway out of the warm liquid. 

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes, instinctively flinching away from something that was reaching for her. It was a human male in a crisp uniform, and he was saying something to her, but she couldn’t understand his muffled words, and there were other stiffly dressed people, and droids, and they were reaching for her, and she couldn’t speak or cry out from the thing in her mouth, down her throat, and so she just slapped their hands away, shaking her swirling head, the lights and sounds and movement around her so dizzying and overwhelming and—

Suddenly she felt something brushing up against her mind, and she reeled back painfully against the lip of the container, her body freezing in shock, in rejection.   
  
_NO no nonono pleaseno, please stay out STAY OUT._  
  
The thing retreated immediately, but in the lapse of movement from her, several droid arms were dipping into the liquid, pulling her up, up, out, into the freezing air, onto a table of sorts, and her arms and legs were being held down and she bucked against them, NO NONONO LET ME GO, LET ME GO, PLEASELETMEGO, and one of her ears finally cleared enough for her to hear someone tell her to _breathe out on the count of three: one, two,_ and she tried to do as they said, and then the thing in her mouth and throat was coming out, and she coughed as it did, feeling as if her lungs were being pulled out of her body with it.  
  
She wheezed in a draught of air, coughing painfully, whining hoarsely, still not understanding where she was or who these people were or why, _so confused_ , and her eyes were itching and her body was pulsing, and she was so _cold._

There was a light being shined into her eyes, and someone asking her if she could hear him, if she knew where she was, if she knew her own name. 

She shook her head, no, no, she didn’t know, she couldn’t answer, she was just a girl, just a slave, it was a trick, never tell them, never—

There was something warm flowing into the vein of her arm, up, up, into her chest, and very quickly Rey felt…warm, and like she was made of jelly. Her struggling ceased as the world turned to jelly too, so soft and waving and floaty. 

The things holding her down disappeared, and there were people moving, the ceiling was moving. She was moving. The table was moving her. Where was she going? 

She wanted to be afraid but, she was too tired, too floaty.

Rey didn’t protest or fight back when her wetsuit was peeled off her shivering body, and then she was lifted again, sat up against something that squeaked when she moved against it. And then there was warm water, and hands, scrubbing her skin that felt insanely sensitive. She almost fell over a couple times, everything swimming and her muscles and bones made of jelly. There was always something or someone there to catch her with firm but gentle hands. 

She blinked when they gently poured cool water into her eyes, someone telling her, “That’s it, keep blinking, this should help with the itch.” She almost fell asleep when they lathered and rinsed her hair, but stiffened when they began cleaning her female parts—although it was quick, efficient. And then she was rinsed again, and then she was being dried with a great, warm wind, her hair blowing all around. 

Someone gave her clothes, which she half put on herself, half sat dumbly as someone else moved her limbs through appropriate sleeves and such, tying ties to hold closed the top. She marveled at the softness of it all against her tingling skin. 

She was stood on trembling legs, her thick socks and slippers the most amazing things she’s ever seen in her life. She watched her feet move on the shining durasteel floor as the helper person held her arm while they shuffled out, into cold air, “We’ll get you settled into bed and started on another nutrient drip,” and Rey felt something, a brush of a shadow against her Feelings, and she looked up and—

At first Rey thought she was seeing Death, come to take her to wherever slave souls go—probably nowhere nice. Probably just back to Jakku—because the overwhelming frigid _darkness_ that swirled around the black figure didn’t seem like it could be from anything else. But as soon as the adrenaline in her veins reached her head and her vision sharpened, she could clearly see the mask, the silver lines, the familiar robes. 

It was Lord Ren. 

He was standing stiffly, his head turning away from the talking uniformed man beside him, turning to look at her. 

And Rey still didn’t know exactly where she was, or why she woke up in a blue water tank, or who these people in their stiff uniforms were. There was only one thing that flashed in her mind, one spark of recognition that almost seemed to come from the pit of her soul, one word with a thousand meanings, with a thousand potential meanings:

“M-master,” Rey gasped hoarsely, her throat agitated and painful. 

She fell halfway to her knees, her helper half holding her up awkwardly by her arm.

Someone else rushed over to help her back up, but she needed to be there, she needed to be on her knees, begging for her life, pleading that she wasn’t a burden, that she could work, that she deserved another chance—

And then, beneath the immense frigid darkness—and slight exasperation— emanating from her master, there was the other dark thing—the black _oily_ thing. Her memories were a jumbled mess, but sensing the oily darkness now, she was flooded with shrieking memories of the invasion, the invisible hands, the pain. 

It wasn’t trying to get into her mind again, but it was there, _right there_ , and Rey looked up and saw Lord Tomaxx and her skin broke out in a sweat, her body trembling, knowing somehow that it had been him who had cut into her head. Her heart beat painfully in her chest, because she could physically fight him and she could run, but he had already shown that her mind was his for the pillaging, and he could do it again and she had _no way to stop him—_

Alarms were blaring from her chest where some sort of device she hadn’t noticed before was attached to her shirt. Her vision filled with black spots, her knees gave out again, someone said, “You need to leave, _immediately,”_ and then things were a blur of movement, fuzzy and sharp and grey. 

Rey felt herself lifted, placed on something soft and warm, covered with something just as soft and warm, and she tried to curl on her side but someone stopped her, keeping her flat. People moved around her, touching her with things, attaching lines and cords to the ports to her veins that she hadn’t noticed, more warm stuff moving up her arm and into her chest and head, so warm, so soft, so heavy. Someone secured something over her nose and mouth, and as the air became easier to inhale, as her heart settled into a gentler rhythm, eyes fluttering shut but still vaguely awake, Rey laid in her warm bed and just, _breathed._

* * *

  
~~~OOO~*~OOO~~~

* * *

  
Kylo tried not to rush, but he certainly wasn’t going to _walk_ to the medbay. Not when he could feel Girl’s life-Force—her candle flame—blazing with renewed wakefulness now. 

He held himself as still as he possibly could in the express lift down to the level, because he could sense Tomaxx’s acute attention focused on him, and he did not want to validate anymore of the Knight’s paranoid ideas where he and the slave were concerned. 

But inside he was buzzing with anxious energy, agitated by the lingering darkness swirling in the Force around him from his lingering aches and pains and memories. He tried to push what he could to the back of his mind. It would not do for him to lose control in the medbay. 

He reminded himself that he would be just as anxious to see his Knights if they had been in a coma for a week. He was a loyal Master, a faithful Master, and Girl was his now, so she would be looked after the way he would look after his Knights. He was allowed to be anxious.

As they entered the medbay and headed straight back towards the tank—stopping just outside the flurry of personnel, wary of getting in the way— Kylo heard before he saw the lid being opened with a hiss of compression and steam, saw Girl’s _moving_ body through the bubbles in the bacta and the gathering bodies of medics and droids. He stood tensely, watching as her arms pierced through the opening and scrabbled for purchase, her head and torso following with a great splash of bacta over the sides of the tank. 

Even though he could feel that she was a cacophony of sensory information, her eyes were ablaze, still alert enough to flinch away from the first medic to try and approach her, still somehow finding strength to fight for her own survival, even with the odds stacked against her. 

And past the breathing mask covering the lower half of her face, past her being slightly bloated from being submerged for five days, and through the viscous bacta that dripped and clung to her hair and body, she was like a great bonfire, like an exploding star, so bright was her aura in the Force. Kylo could see all the potential in the raw power flowing through her, all of the possibilities, and in spite of her current physical appearance there was a single intrusive thought that suddenly came unbidden to his mind:

Girl was beautiful.

The thought was fleeting and he pushed it away, unwilling to fan the flames of the implications it held. But he could not deny that witnessing this shift in the Force felt monumental. She had awakened in more ways than one, and seeing this overflow of pent-up power was all the evidence he needed to know that, no matter how hard he had to fight for it, he was going to get permission to train her.

Girl was beginning to actually fight the hands reaching for her now, though. He reached out with his feelings to brush against her mind, hoping it might calm her the way she had calmed him, only to see her very physically and violently flinch away with a cry out in the Force, _‘NO no nonono pleaseno, please stay out STAY OUT.’_

It was desperate enough that he retreated immediately, still marveling at how well he could hear her inner voice, while simultaneously alarmed at the strength of her rejection. He shook off the sting of it, assuming that she was just overwhelmed from everything, and, he reasoned, she hadn’t been too keen on him going into her mind before either.

And then he remembered that Tomaxx had invaded her head, and he felt such immense fury— and _dread—_ but he quickly pushed it down. He would _not_ lose control. Not here. Not now. 

“When you went into her mind,” Kylo said to his Knight tensely, quietly, “did you use your usual tactics?”

Tomaxx was in silent thought for a moment and then shook his head minutely. 

“I was as gentle as I could be, given the circumstances.”

“‘Given the circumstances’?” Kylo turned his head to look at him. “What does that _mean?”_

The Knight tilted his head. “The girl has been in a coma for five days,” he muttered. “By all accounts she should have been an open book.” He looked at his master. “Imagine my surprise when her mind actively fought back against me.” 

Kylo remained silent, feeling some small amount of pride for Girl’s strength, although it was overshadowed by his burgeoning want to explode on his apprentice. He was loathe to make such a scene here now though. He would confront the Knight about going against his command and trespassing on his property more later. But he hoped the effects of the Knight’s infiltration had not caused Girl to be afraid of his own mental presence as well. He hoped this was just from the chaos of waking up. He hoped. 

They pulled her out of the bacta and laid her on a hover gurney, and it took all of the control he had left inside himself not to shove every one of the medics and droids away that were holding her down as she bucked and thrashed, crying out in the Force—seemingly only to him, because Tomaxx did not react at all— _‘NO NONONO LET ME GO, LET ME GO, PLEASELETMEGO’_. He knew it was for the best, they needed to get the breathing tube out, but he still hated how useless it made him feel. 

She coughed and wheezed after the tube was removed, still showing that fight he knew was in her, but it very quickly left her body as they injected something into the port in the back of her hand. 

And again, Kylo stiffened his body to keep from following as they moved the hover gurney away, further into the back, through a nondescript door. 

He stopped a passing medic with a too-hard grip on the woman’s arm, ignoring her wince. 

“Where are they taking her?” He growled.

“To be washed, Milord,” she explained nervously. “She’ll be back out when they’re done, and then they’ll put her in a bed to finish checking her.”

“Put her in one of the private rooms,” he commanded, releasing her as she nodded.

“Yessir.” 

Tomaxx Ren still hadn’t said anything else up to this point, merely stood at Kylo’s side silently observing things from behind his mask. Silently observing Kylo.  
  
When the flurry of activity died down somewhat after about ten minutes and they were less likely to be overheard, the Knight spoke quietly. 

“You spoke earlier of sensing something different from her, from before,” he mused. “Was it her active subconscious that you were referring to?”

“In a sense,” Kylo ground out.

He did not want to reveal that he could hear her voice in the Force as clear as if it was his own in his head, nor that somehow he could feel her brightness amidst the darkness more strongly than he had before. That Tomaxx had not commented on it told him he couldn’t sense it.

Now that they had some distance from their earlier conversation, Kylo was furious with himself for telling the Knight how much Girl was affecting him. It made his efforts to seem unaffected even more blatant. 

He could tell the Knight had something to say but was holding his tongue. Kylo almost wanted to command him to speak, because he was tired of people holding things back from him, tired of all the guessing and assumptions. But he was also tired of being so vulnerable today. He had a feeling whatever the Knight had to say, it would continue to flay him open the way he had been before. He would not be subjected to such a thing here, in public. So he would allow Tomaxx his silence, for now. 

Kylo saw the lead medical officer the same time the man noticed him and changed course to approach him.

“Lord Ren,” the doctor greeted with a nod, addressing the Knight with another curt nod. “Lord Tomaxx.” He looked at Kylo again, a spryness to his countenance that belied his energy and focus.

“I trust the comm was prompt in alerting you to the girl’s return to consciousness?”

Kylo nodded. “It was.” Although it was the Force that alerted him first. 

“Good,” the doctor said, some tension releasing from his face. “Our initial diagnostics of her have shown good physical recovery, although she was slightly unresponsive to prompts we use to judge mental capacity and memory. In fact, she became quite agitated, so we had to administer a mild sedative. When she’s ready and more adapted to being awake, we will check her mental faculties again. She’s being cleaned and dressed now, and we will let her rest once they’re done with her. I can comm you when she’s ready to speak—“

“No,” Kylo said and shook his head. “I’ll wait here.”

The medic looked disapproving. 

“Really, Milord, I must insist that you give her time to rest—“

Kylo felt a shiver in the Force and turned from the man, seeing another medic slowly leading a freshly washed and dried Girl back through the door into the main area. She was wearing the standard light grey patient trousers and top instead of the bacta suit, and she had chafe lines on her face from the breathing mask, a blue tinge to her sallow skin, but she looked much healthier than she had going in to the tank. He almost didn’t recognize her with her hair down about her shoulders instead of up in the buns, but her inner blaze was impossible to mistake for anyone else. Kylo had a feeling he’d be able to find her anywhere; she was like a beacon now.

She seemed to sense him the same time he did, looking up as she shuffled forward. 

Some sort of small shock zipped down his spine as they locked gazes, even though his was hidden behind his visor. She was finally awake, finally standing before him, living proof. 

His slave. 

_His._

There was a moment where she frowned, and then recognition dawned on her face.

“M-master,” she croaked. And even though Kylo had told her not to call him by that title having been uncomfortable with it at first, he found himself enjoying the sound of it now. 

Yes, it was for the best that she call him ‘Lord Ren,’ but he certainly wouldn’t punish her for calling him ‘Master.’

And then she started to _kneel—_ practically collapsing, really—her helper alarmed and trying to hold her up by her arm, another medic rushing over to help with her stand on the other side. 

Kylo wanted to shake his head in exasperated frustration. _Stupid girl. What do you think you’re going to accomplish with that, in your state?_

They got her back on her feet, but her body shuddered, and then her eyes alit upon Tomaxx standing slightly behind to Kylo’s side, and her entire demeanor changed to one of abject horror. The monitor clipped to her hospital gown shirt began beeping a loud alarm, and Girl grasped at her chest, wheezing for air, her knees truly giving out this time as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. 

The lead medic turned to Kylo, leaving no room for argument with his expression.

“You need to leave, _immediately,”_ he ordered. Incensed, Kylo almost gripped his throat with the Force, almost slammed him between the ceiling and the floor, wanting to see blood, wanting to show who would be commanding whom in this place.

But Tomaxx took a step between them, addressing the doctor.

“I’ll leave,” he said, explaining, “She’s not used to me.” 

He turned to Kylo. “I’ll be with Cseenan Ren. We will await your summoning, Master.”

Kylo nodded stiffly. Her reaction to him could only mean that Tomaxx had not been as gentle in his infiltration of her mind as he had said. Kylo had seen similar terrified reactions from close-lipped sources who had been put under the Chiss’s mental knife. Yes, Kylo would be having a _very serious_ talk with the Knight about this later.

Tomaxx left, and Kylo stood challengingly, defiantly against the medic’s glare. Finally the older man relented with an angry sigh.

“Very well. But if she has another episode like this, I cannot guarantee that her heart will be able to take it without more damage. She needs _rest,_ Milord. She’s still fragile—this is a precarious time.” 

“I _understand,_ doctor,” Kylo seethed, annoyed to be talked down to, as if he didn’t know just how weak she was, how she required delicate handling. Kylo understood this, probably on a deeper level than anyone. He would not break her.

“I won’t let anything happen,” he promised gruffly. 

The doctor gave a stiff nod and then moved to assist the others who had carried Girl off to one of the private rooms. Once Kylo knew that she was settled and the medics were done hooking her up to the machines and monitors, he entered the room, taking guard from just inside the door. 

It was beginning to feel normal to him, his waiting for her to wake up. But this time was different. 

This time he would be _right there_ — this time _he_ would be the one she saw— when she finally did. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL WELL WELL
> 
> Some very interesting developments 🧐
> 
> You know that tall furry bug-face animal at the end of TRoS, with the old lady on Tatooine? That's an etobi. 
> 
> Also I swear to f*cking god, Rey is not going to end up in another coma 😂 SHE'S GONNA BE AWAKE NEXT CHAPTER, PINKY PROMISE.
> 
> Also#2 WE BROKE 100k WORDS Y'ALL. THIS IS A HUGE ACHIEVEMENT FOR ME. 😱🤩🥳✨
> 
> I have fun discussion questions again! :D Again, feel free to NOT answer if you just want to say whatever's on your mind instead. No pressure at all :)
> 
> 1.) What's an interesting use of symbolism that stood out to you from the past thirteen chapters? (basically since the start of Part 2 in chapter 22)
> 
> 2.) If you could ascribe an element to the ~strange bond~ forming between Rey and Kylo, what would it be? (Can you find/remember examples to support your hypothesis? )
> 
> I'm working on an illustration for this chapter, which will be added here when I get it done. I added a drawing of Visser Ren to the end notes in chapter 33 btw if you want to go take a look :D 
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey and Kylo talk, and Rey struggles to remember some things..  
> Posting date: This week is my first week back to work in almost a month, and I have four schools to prep for. To preserve my sanity, I'm going to have the next update posted this Friday, May 22, 9PM Japan time.


	35. Do You Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo have a chat...  
> First from Rey's POV, and then from Kylo's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ENJOY ✨

* * *

  
After a while of drifting in and out of consciousness, Rey awoke more fully to the feeling of Lord Ren’s cold, oppressive presence surrounding her. Lord Tomaxx’s oily shadow was gone, but Rey could still tell that he was nearby, hovering just on the edge of her Feelings. It made her nervous, but she tried to ignore it to focus on her master, who stood with his arms crossed tensely near the open door to the small room she was lying in. He seemed so much more _massive_ than the last time she saw him, filling the room with a coldness that was more than just temperature.

With her head feeling too heavy to move, Rey looked around with her eyes, noting the fancy equipment, the machines her many lines were hooked up to, and then back at Lord Ren, who had not said anything yet even though he must have been aware that she was awake.

Rey swallowed, her throat throbbing from whatever they’d had stuck down it earlier, and from the dryness of the air filtering in through the mask over her mouth and nose. She wished she could have some water, but would just wait until someone gave her some. She didn’t want to be anymore of a burden than she already was.

“Is—“ she coughed, and Lord Ren twitched, his body tensing even further. Once she got her fit under control, she tried again, her voice warbled and hoarse, muffled slightly from the mask. 

“Is this a hospital?” 

They had healers on Jakku, but no facilities like this. You either learned how to fix your own ailments, or died. She heard about places like this existing in the galaxy, but had never imagined she’d ever see one in person, or be a patient in one.

His robotic voice was low, quiet, when he replied.

“Yes, in a sense. It’s a medbay on the ship.”  
  
Rey nodded, swallowing again, her brows drew down as she tried to recall how she had ended up here in the first place. 

“What happened?” 

His mask tilted a degree. “You don’t remember?”

Feeling slightly ashamed, Rey shook her head. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“We were talking at my table,” he explained. “You tried to get up, and collapsed. Your heart had given out.”

Her eyes searched the air before her as if it held the answers. Everything was blurry still, her thoughts slow to stagger forward when called. But she could remember being angry. She felt more ashamed of herself, more worry.

“I yelled at you,” she whispered, looking up at Lord Ren’s visor, then down in deference at where his arms crossed across his broad chest. “I’m sorry for disrespecting you, Sir.”

He didn’t say anything for another moment, and Rey wondered if he would punish her. She’d never had a tantrum like that directed at a master since Nybian. Would he berate her? Tell her she was not forgiven, that as soon as she was well enough, she would be suffering the consequences? She deserved it. 

“Do you remember what I said at the table?” He asked her instead. 

Her heart began to pound as her worry increased. She shook her head, no. Was it important? Maker, she was so _useless._

“When we’re seated at the table,” he continued, “you can tell me things without threat of punishment. Even though what you said— and how you said it— was disrespectful, you will not be punished, _this time_ , because I considered it a table matter.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, the words getting stuck in her throat. This was more mercy than she’d ever expected from someone as dangerous and powerful as he.   
  
“Do not lie or keep things from me again, Girl,” he warned. “This could have been avoided. The next time you’re ill, you _will_ tell me. I don’t have time to wait around a week for you to wake up every time you collapse from hiding your bad health.”

Rey heard the machine monitoring her heart rate pick up as her pulse increased. 

Did she mishear him? 

“How long have I been here?” She croaked, afraid of the answer.

“Five days,” he growled. “You were so ill they had to put you in that bacta tank.”

Her throat burned from the sudden bile rising up. 

“A bacta—?” The thing she’d been in before was a _bacta tank?_ The resources wasted on her must have cost a fortune. Did he pay for it? Was she expected to work to pay it back? _Maker,_ it would take her lifetime, _two_ lifetimes, to accumulate enough labor to compensate for five days of bacta tank treatment. 

Lord Ren’s arms uncrossed as he took notice of the ascending beeps of the machines. 

“Girl,” he said in a low tone, the sound crackling slightly through his mask. “Calm down.”

“I—I can’t afford—“ She gasped for air, the mask on her face suddenly feeling constricting. She reached up to pull it off, trying to get air, but there were so many wires and lines and tubes connected to her arms and veins, preventing her. She wanted to rip them out, rip them away. She wanted to be free—

Her wrists were caught in an iron grip that softened as she flinched and froze, wheezing and shaking still, the skin of her arms erupting into prickling gooseflesh. Lord Ren had moved so quickly, and his mask was so close, threatening in its closeness. 

“Put. Your arms. _Down,”_ he commanded lowly. “And _breathe.”_

Rey shivered from the sudden frigidly cold anger—and unease?—she could feel from him, much stronger than before, much more palpable. But she latched onto the order, pushing her hysteria to the side, putting her focus on obeying her master. His tight grip on her wrists helped anchor her, kept her from sinking into the sand of despair in her mind. She felt her chest loosen somewhat, the air a little less stifling as she gave a tiny nod, happy and relieved to be able to obey, to have an order to follow.

He released her after a moment and straightened. She dutifully laid her tingling arms back down beside her body, fingers twisting in the blanket, and tried to take in a deep breath. It was shuddering and shallow, but she was trying. She was _trying._

“Good,” he murmured.

Again Rey’s chest loosened. She blinked away tears. Yes, she could be good. She could obey.

She took two more breaths and then attempted to speak again. 

“I can’t afford that much bacta,” she rasped.

Lord Ren shook his head. “It doesn’t cost you anything. You’re officially one of mine now. We don’t pay for things like room and board here, nor medical care. Not in the traditional sense.”

_You’re officially one of mine._

Somehow the statement, said so easily— as if making a factual comment about sand, _‘it’s course and gritty’ ‘It’s hot in the sun’_ — felt weighted. 

Rey was stolen. How was she _officially_ his now? And what did he mean, they don’t pay for things ‘in the traditional sense?’

“How—how do I pay?” 

“By serving the Supreme Leader and the First Order dutifully,” he replied, adding, “By serving me.”

Okay. Rey nodded again. She could do that. As long as he actually gave her something to do, she could definitely do that. She wanted to earn her keep here. She _needed_ to earn her place. 

They lapsed into a short silence, and then Lord Ren spoke.

“Do you…” he began, then paused. 

Rey looked up, frowning at his sudden hesitancy. 

“Do you remember anything else?” He finally asked.

Rey tried to remember, tried to think about the last thing she did before all of this.

“Anything from _after_ you collapsed?” He added. 

She searched the air, her mind so fuzzy and heavy still, so full of holes. There were flashes, but…nothing concrete. 

And then, she spied his hand rising, felt something cold brush up again her mind and she flinched violently, remembering the oily shadow, the way it pushed in, held her down, tried to break through to the deepest parts of her, and she whined, shaking her head.   
  
“Nnno, n-no,” she pleaded, machines beginning to wail in the background, ratcheting up her panic tenfold, especially as Lord Ren moved his hand closer as if to penetrate her mind anyways, but no, no, she didn’t want that, she, there was _no air_ , the shadow was trying to, she couldn’t let it—

She threw up her hands as if to push Lord Ren’s arm away, but something, some sort of heavy air, _moved through her_ , and suddenly Lord Ren was careening backwards, just managing to catch his footing to keep from crashing into a metal trolley by the wall. 

Medics rushed into the room, supplanting where Lord Ren had stood, telling him to leave, quieting the machines and prepping a needle, and _oh, Maker, please no more needles, please no more—_

But it went into the line connected to her arm, and then there was warmth in her veins, in her chest, weighing her head and eyelids down, down, down…into…..darkness.

* * *

~~~OOO~*~OOO~~~

* * *

  
After Girl had been hooked up in her bed and checked over, Kylo silently waited, breathing deeply to keep the dark things down, to make himself less terrifying in the Force for her. He watched with bated breath as she drew closer to consciousness, crossing his arms and holding himself rigidly, trying to find a sense of control to keep his heart from pounding. 

And then, after he’d been waiting for over two hours, suddenly her eyes were fluttering open, a small sigh escaping her, as if just doing that had taken too much energy. And then she was fully awake—more or less— her sleepy gaze finding him almost immediately. 

_Finally,_ he thought. 

She was finally awake, finally seeing him. He’s not sure if she’d ever know how often he had been to see her as she healed in the tank, but at least she would know that he was there when she woke up when it counted. 

She swallowed painfully after taking in her surroundings. Tried speaking, and fell into a fit of coughing that _almost_ brought him to her bedside to see if he could do something, anything. But he stopped himself, kept himself still. He was a Master of Ren, not a doting caregiver. 

After getting her coughing under control, she asked if this was a hospital. It wasn’t the first thing he thought she’d say, but he answered it, slowly, voice quiet, afraid to speak too loudly, as if the weight of his voice would be enough to break the fragile state she was in. 

Her face changed to a mask of confusion. “What happened?” 

Kylo frowned, head tilting. “You don’t remember?” 

Girl shook her head, a tinge of shame to the set of her expression. 

He had to think about it for a moment. So much had happened between then and now. 

“We were talking at my table,” he finally explained. “You tried to get up, and collapsed. Your heart had given out.”

Her eyes searched the air before her as if she could read the past from the molecules. Her frown deepened, and Kylo could very strongly feel shame and nervousness coming from her now. She was such an open book, even more so than before. He would have to teach her to close herself off, lest the other Knights read too much from her. 

“I yelled at you,” she whispered, looking up at his hidden gaze, then down at his chest submissively. “I’m sorry for disrespecting you, Sir.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, too surprised that she was apologizing for something he’d almost forgotten about. Out of everything that had happened, her exploding at him was the thing she remembered? And aside from that, she just woke up from a coma caused by his neglect, he had just told her that her _heart had given out,_ and she was _apologizing_ to _him?_

“Do you remember what I said at the table?” He asked her. 

She shook her head, no, and he noticed her heart rate was increasing. 

“When we’re seated at the table,” he continued, slowly, calmly, an eye on the monitor, “you can tell me things without threat of punishment. Even though what you said— and how you said it— was disrespectful, you will not be punished, _this time_ , because I considered it a table matter.” 

Truthfully he deserved worse than just a tongue-lashing for what he had caused her, although he felt at this point that he’d received his due punishment by having his failures basically broadcasted across the ship. But he’d not let her think she should be punished for exposing his mistreatment of her. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered, the words hoarse, as if he was doing her a kindness and she was emotionally overwhelmed by it. 

Well, he wasn’t _that_ merciful. He would not allow this to happen again without consequences.  
  
“Do not lie or keep things from me again, Girl,” he warned. “This could have been avoided. The next time you’re ill, you _will_ tell me. I don’t have time to wait around a week for you to wake up every time you collapse from hiding your bad health.”

She was immediately alarmed.

“How long have I been here?”

“Five days,” Kylo replied, angry at himself. “You were so ill they had to put you in that bacta tank.”

If she had been in the tank for just one day because of his lack of taking ownership of her, it would have been too long. Five days was shameful. 

Girl looked horrified. “A bacta—?” 

Kylo’s arms uncrossed as he took notice of the ascending beeps of the machines. Her heart rate was increasing at a rapid pace. This was _not_ good. 

“Girl,” he said in a low tone, trying to be unthreatening but stern. “Calm down.”

“I—I can’t afford—“ She gasped for air, reaching up, grasping at her oxygen mask as if to pull it off. The various IVs and electrical leads attached to her veins and skin prohibited her somewhat, and she started to look like she was going to remove them as well, a crazed, desperateness in her wide eyes. 

Kylo knew he couldn’t let her do that—the medics would kick him out for sure and bar him from entering again. He needed to act quickly. 

For some reason, freezing her with the Force did not seem like the right solution, seemed a bit dangerous considering his still feeble grasp on his powers today, so he brought himself to her bedside in just a few long strides, grasping her wrists in an iron grip that he immediately softened, wary of her still-delicate bones and her wince. 

She froze, wheezing and shaking, her wide eyes snapping to his mask, to his hidden gaze.

“Put. Your arms. _Down,”_ he commanded lowly. “And _breathe.”_ He listened for any sound of approaching droids or medics who may have been drawn by the sudden activity of Girl’s physical readings, but he did not sense anyone.

Girl seemed to shiver, and then some of the tension went out in her frame. She gave a small, trembling nod, and, having sensed that her mind had paused in its frenzied upheaval, Kylo released her, straightening to his full height. He watched as she laid her arms back down stiffly, grasping the blanket as if to anchor herself. 

She took in a tremulous breath, and let it out shakily. It looked difficult, and there were tears shining in her eyes now, but he could tell that she was doing her best to do as he said. 

Kylo knew she was a slave, that she was basically programmed to follow orders, but he still felt a sense of primal satisfaction at seeing her obey. Somehow it was different from when his Knights followed orders from him, but he wasn’t sure how. It something to be studied, to be inspected later, perhaps.

“Good,” he murmured.

She relaxed further, blinking her eyes clear. She took two more breaths this way, and then attempted to speak again. 

“I can’t afford that much bacta,” she rasped.

Kylo shook his head, marveling at the thought that Girl almost had a panic attack because she thought she was going to have to pay for the bacta she ended up in because of him. 

“It doesn’t cost you anything,” he explained. “You’re officially one of mine now. We don’t pay for things like room and board here, nor medical care. Not in the traditional sense.”

_You’re officially one of mine._

_You’re mine._

There, he said it. There was no doubt now, no hesitance. He had taken ownership of her within the First Order, and now he was finalizing it verbally. _You’re mine._

“How—how do I pay?” She asked, as if he hadn’t just claimed her as his. She was probably used to it, though. 

“By serving the Supreme Leader and the First Order dutifully,” he replied, adding, “By serving me.”

Girl nodded again, determination in the set of her face as if she was going to get up right then and there and do his bidding. 

_That won’t happen for some time,_ he thought, remembering what the medic had said about her recovery timeline. ‘Several weeks’ until discharge. He had better give her something to do on her datapad in the meantime, lest she try to pretend she was healthier than she actually was and end up in an even worse condition for it. 

They lapsed into a short silence, Kylo wondering something. Something that itched at the back of his mind. 

Did she remember anything from when she was in the tank? Did she remember reaching out to him, did she remember trying to calm him down? Her mind had been so active, so alive. Surely she remembered? The Force was not the same as before—especially not around her. Even now he could sense things from her he’d never felt from anyone before. She was more than an open book, it was….something more, somehow. And he was calmer now than he’d been since she went under, without her even doing anything. Surely she felt what he felt?

He took a small breath. 

“Do you…” he began, then paused, suddenly unsure.

She looked up at him, frowning, waiting silently for him to continue.  
  
“Do you remember anything else?” He finally asked.

Her brow creased more with her deep thought.

“Anything from _after_ you collapsed?” He amended. 

She searched the air, the surface of her mind a great jumble of things, her face slightly pained from her efforts. 

Maybe….maybe he could help. They had some sort of connection, he was so sure of it. Maybe she would recognize him and not be frightened if he brushed against her mind, or went in and found the memories, buried beneath the drugs in her system and the effects of being unconscious. Maybe she’d remember. And then he could ask her, _why._ And _how._

He raised his hand, pushed out his senses, just barely brushed up against her mind and—

She flinched violently, whining, shaking her head. Kylo’s chest constricted, and he retreated immediately.

“Nnno, n-no,” she pleaded, the machines beginning to wail around her, and he could feel her panic and terror explode. He’d triggered something, no doubt some memory of Tomaxx’s handiwork, and she was going into a full-on panic attack. 

Kylo moved forward, intending to just put her to sleep, to keep the medics from finding out, but then her hands were up in defense and the Force _surged_ around her, erupting from her hands and pushing him backwards like a kick to the chest. 

He stumbled, arms pinwheeling, using the Force to help him regain balance and keep from crashing into the equipment along the wall, and then it was too late to try and cover up yet another mistake as medics and droids rushed into the room.

“Lord Ren, you need to leave,” the head medic said, giving no room for argument, and although Kylo knew he could use his intimidating stature to push back and stay—because _no one_ ordered Kylo Ren to do _anything—he_ didn’t feel like pushing back. He’d done enough damage. 

He watched them prep a sedative, watched Girl be put to sleep chemically, and then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, past the bacta tank being emptied and cleaned, past the droids and medics and the damned stormtrooper, and out of the medbay. 

His mind was whirling, the Force turning the air cold around him as his thoughts spiraled into a dark descent. She was a soothing presence for him, but, predictably, he was a source of fear for her. _No thanks to Tomaxx_ , he thought with a growl. She’d become emotionally heightened enough to unwittingly use the Force on him again, even.

Did she even remember anything? Was she aware of the strange connection between them? She must not. It must be some sort of coping mechanism, created by his own mind. 

_Pathetic._

He’d been spending too much time around her, spending too much time thinking about her. And now his mind had fabricated some belief that they shared something, something unique, something new. 

He should have known it wasn’t real—

_NO._ Kylo stopped in the corridor, shaking his head, clenching his fists. 

It _was_ real. Even now, he could feel something pulling him back to the medbay. He hadn’t imagined her reaching out to him, he hadn’t imagined her inner voice, calling out to him so vividly. 

There _was_ something going on. It just seemed to be one-sided. 

_She just woke up_ , he reasoned with himself. _She’s weak, drugged up, delirious from being unconscious for five days. Traumatized by Tomaxx. Give it time. Just, give it time._

She was still his. She still belonged to him. There was time to figure out what was going on. There was time to see if the things he was feeling in the Force were only on his side of things, or if she could sense them as well. 

_“You’re so weak, so **sentimental—“**_

Kylo ignited his saber with a snarl, causing the officers passing by him in the corridor to jump and press their backs against the wall. Kylo looked at them, angry at their fear, ashamed of himself for making a scene in the corridor, and just, so tired of it all. 

Now that the excitement of Girl waking up was over, reality seemed to crash back down on him. His body ached, his mind was exhausted, the dark voices were once again whispering, and things were not well with his Knights—his exposing conversation with Tomaxx about Visser notwithstanding.

They still needed to go after the droid, which was coincidentally being pursued by his father’s damned ship. Kylo also needed to update Supreme Leader before long, or suffer the consequences. 

_One thing at a time_ , he thought, breathing deeply and turning off his saber. _Bolt by—_

Kylo shook his head with a grimace, confused by the intrusive thought. He’s not sure why he thought of bolts. 

_I’m losing my mind,_ he thought sullenly, moving forward again. _Seeing ghosts, hearing voices, almost killing my own apprentice._

Kylo had a feeling that his greatest trial in self-discipline and strength had only just begun. His recent foray into pain-induced power would not likely be his last, in spite of his initial feelings toward it. It was up to him and him alone to learn how to control all of the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him and weaken him instead of give him strength when it did.

He could not— _would not_ — rely on the girl to help calm him when it became too much. He would not be so weak anymore. This was too big a thing to put on her shoulders, especially now, and if he was truly a Master of Ren, he could do this just as he always had:

Alone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE WILL BE A DAY WHEN REY HAS A CHAPTER THAT DOESN'T END IN HER FALLING UNCONSCIOUS FOR SOME REASON.......  
> *slams staff on the ground with an explosion of glitter*  
> ....AND THAT DAY IS NOT TODAY
> 
> 😂😂😂 Yeah I'll defend my writing choices til my dying breath, but I promise to try to not end with Rey blacking out so much anymore 😂😂😂🤞 unless I think it's needed 👀
> 
> ALso ALSO
> 
> before you guys kill me,
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo sends his Knights off after the droid, and then Rey and Lord Ren have a _much longer_ talk...  
> (the convo is about nine pages long in my word document)  
> Posting date: Wednesday, May 27th, 9PM Japan time. 
> 
> This past week absolutely destroyed me at work, so I didn't get as much writing done as I wanted to. I'm still going to try and make sure I post at least once a week though 🤞 Fingers crossed I can manage it 😬
> 
> Notice anything interesting this chapter? There's actually quite a number of things 👀


	36. A New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Knights away following the droid, Kylo and Rey finally have a talk....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to reply to comments last chapter! Work murdered me.
> 
> WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, *vibrates in excitement*
> 
> 🤩🤩✨✨✨✨ENJOY✨✨✨✨🤩🤩

* * *

  
Kylo brooded like a storm cloud as he made his way through the ship to where his Knights had congregated. Tomaxx was in for a reckoning for how traumatized Girl had turned out from his cognitive interrogation. Why did he have to involve her? Why couldn’t he have just _asked—_

Inside the lift Kylo gave a gruff sigh. Tomaxx _had_ asked. He _had_ tried to talk to his master about what had happened, and Kylo had brushed him off, pushed him away. He should have known the Knight wouldn’t have let it lie, especially with things escalating the way they had. Tomaxx had always been relentless with anything he put his mind to, doing whatever it took to get things done. It’s one of the reasons he was such a strong member, such a reliable apprentice. 

But Kylo was still pissed at him for it. 

He found his Knights in the Situation Room, their conversation halting mid-sentence as he entered. He wanted to start berating Tomaxx then and there, but became distracted by his other apprentice. 

Cseenan Ren bristled, his whole body tense, his eyes going half-black. Even though Kylo felt much of his anger directed at the Barabel had dissolved since talking to Tomaxx, the last time he’d seen the Knight he’d almost killed him in the training room, so this reaction from him was not surprising. Just because Kylo had resolved his misdirected fury did not mean Cseenan had. Kylo needed to step up and right things. He needed to be the Master that Cseenan deserved.

Tomaxx’s reprimand pushed to the side for the moment, Kylo opened his mouth to say that he would accept Cseenan’s challenge to duel, but the Chiss spoke first.

“Master, one of my contacts came back. They think they have the droid.”

Kylo’s heart stopped, the words frozen on the tip of his tongue. They evaporated with the heat of his sudden feverish interest.

“Where? When?” He asked, although it hardly mattered. He would be sending his Knights to go after it, immediately. 

“They’ve gone to the shipjackers on Donadus,” Tomaxx reported succinctly. “The message came about an hour ago, I’m not sure when it was sent.”

“Why wasn’t I alerted immediately?” Kylo asked, scowling behind his mask.

Tomaxx and Cseenan shared a hidden look, and then the Chiss spoke.

“I didn’t want to distract you, Master.”

The words were a blow to Kylo, a callback to his insistence that Girl wasn’t keeping him from their mission. Well, he would not be veering from their path now. The ‘distraction’ was unconscious again.

Cseenan chuffed in dark amusement, and then tensed again, as if in expectation for a fight.

Yes, Kylo was angry. The darkness surged through his veins, his body still not healed. But he was determined to prove he could control himself this time. He would not let the Dark side make him into an undisciplined tyrant. Not anymore. 

Kylo ignored the Barabel, addressing Tomaxx with a tense, but steady tone. 

“The sentiment is appreciated, Tomaxx. But from now, _this_ is priority. You’re to tell me of developments as soon as you receive them. Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” the Knight murmured. 

“How soon can you be ready to go to Donadus?”

“Immediately,” Tomaxx replied, picking up his handheld communicator. “I’m familiar with the planet, and my contacts have the relevant information we need.”

Kylo nodded. “Good. I’ll leave you both to it then. Keep me updated on your progress.”

The Chiss’s head tilted. “What if we find the _Falcon?”_

Kylo felt the muscles on his back tense. 

“If it doesn’t keep you from obtaining the map,” he growled, “destroy it.”

“With pleasure,” Tomaxx said, a smirk in his voice.

“Otherwise, leave it. The droid is more important.”

Tomaxx nodded again. “Yes, Master.”

“What will Master do?” Cseenan rasped, finally looking up from where he’d been boring holes in the holotable with his silent glare.

“I’m going to be here, finishing research on Phu and beginning research on Takodana,” Kylo replied steadily, trying to ignore the challenge. 

“Even though the droid is apparently on Donadus,” he continued, “the First Order still needs to find the Resistance base and wipe it out. I’ll put my efforts towards that while you’re gone. But my hope is that by this time next week we will be planning our attack on Skywalker’s hideout.” 

And then he would be free of the Jedi, _forever._

“With that said,” he said with a warning tone, “behave yourself on Donadus. I do not want things to _escalate_ again. We don’t need you being chased across the galaxy anymore. The risk is too great.”

Cseenan’s claws clicked at his sides as he looked away. 

“We understand, Master,” Tomaxx supplied, handing a datapad to the Barabel. “We’ll be discreet.”

Kylo hoped so. If Cseenan messed things up again, he’s not sure even his tempered realizations from the conversation with Tomaxx earlier would be enough to keep him from doing serious grievous harm to the Barabel. 

Kylo knew the Knight was unbalanced, he could feel it writhing beneath Cseenan’s scales. He knew a duel needed to happen soon so that the Knight could find equilibrium again. Kylo would do it now, but there was no time, especially if they were already an hour behind. 

“I’ll be speaking to both of you, _individually,_ about the recent events when you get back,” he told them stiffly, leaving no room for argument. 

Tomaxx gave a quiet “Yes, Master,” and Cseenan bared his teeth before growling out the same. 

Yes, there needed to be a duel, if only so Kylo wouldn’t be subjected to this disrespect anymore.

With a final curt dismissal, the Knights left, and Kylo settled into the research on Phu again. When he felt them jump to hyperspace, Kylo let out a long sigh, leaning back in his seat. 

There was some understanding now between himself and Tomaxx, but he wasn’t sure how much for the better it was. A part of him felt that the Chiss knew too much now. But there was no going back, no taking back the words spoken, the emotions bared. Tomaxx knew Kylo was affected by Girl, distracted by her. He knew something strange was going on, even if he didn’t seem to be able to sense it himself. 

But even if he couldn’t sense the change in the Force, Tomaxx did have insider knowledge of a kind that Kylo had only glimpsed before. Who knew what he had found in Girl’s mind, what secrets he held about her that even her master did not know. Kylo would absolutely be asking the Knight about that later. 

And Cseenan needed to be dealt with. Things needed to be settled, Kylo needed them to go back to the way they were before everything went to shit; efficient, obedient, but most importantly, impenetrable. They were falling apart at the seams, and that meant mistakes could happen, which meant someone could get hurt, or killed. 

Kylo would not allow his Knights to be taken from him. 

They were _his._

Kylo sent a quick transmission to Supreme Leader Snoke to update him on the progress, and then lost himself in studying, reading, and notating. Time was only made apparent of its passing when he was interrupted by a kitchen droid for luncheon and then for dinner. He ate, not tasting anything, too focused on the research and doing his damndest to not let any inch of his concentration slip in the direction of Girl. 

It was slightly easier this time, though. Perhaps because she’d awoken and the great tension of waiting for her had finally broken, but he felt able to devote himself to his current task much more easily than he would have earlier. 

Well past dinner, nearing the time in the night cycle he would usually be readying for bed, Kylo sat back, arching his aching back to make it crack, pressing his gloves to his tired eyes. Perhaps it was time to sleep. 

He stood, shutting off the holos and organizing the datapads for easier access tomorrow morning. His helmet sat, looking up at him, and he wished he didn’t need it. He wished he could make himself unreadable, because somedays it was so constricting, so heavy on his head. He smoothed a thumb over a dent in the metal. 

Someday, perhaps, he might not—

The Force shivered, the hairs on his arms and nape prickled, and Kylo took in a sharp breath. 

Girl was awake again. 

He should just go to bed. He should leave her be and check on her tomorrow. She probably still needed more rest, and he would probably just agitate her further. 

Kylo grit his teeth, his mind whirling. 

He should just go to bed.

He picked up his helmet, donned it, and made his way to the lift. He pressed for _down,_ to go to the level his quarters were on. 

_Just go to bed._

The lift took him down, the door sliding open to reveal the empty corridor, the edge of his doorway visible down the way. He stood, unmoving, flexing and gripping his hands into fists. 

He took a step out, the momentum enough to propel him forward, one step at a time, until he was stood in front of his quarters.

_Go to bed_. 

He willed the door open. His empty rooms were revealed to him, and after a moment he stepped inside. 

He would ready for bed, and then go to sleep. 

The warped floor would need to be repaired. Another thing for L6’s “file”, but something to be dealt with tomorrow. Kylo moved to go to his bedroom, determined— he had a plan. 

But the items from his shelf were still on the floor. And he was in a much better place mentally now to pick them up. He should pick them up.

He went up the small steps, into the area behind the couch, and, mind blank, quickly placed the items back on their shelves, not sparing any thoughts towards the things he could feel from them as he did. Especially the book.

As he turned to go, he spied Girl’s datapad on her makeshift cot. 

If Girl was awake now, she might want something to keep her occupied. Even though she’d said she didn’t want to sit around with only a datapad for company, this time he couldn’t help that she was stuck in place; she needed to heal. He did not want her to become hysterical from boredom again though.

New plan: take the datapad to the medbay for a medic to deliver to her. Then come back and sleep. 

Kylo nodded, mind made up. As he picked it up he was struck with inspiration, an idea to make her use of the datapad more constructive. He turned it on and tapped about the screen, making preparations. 

It was just a few minutes later that he was back in the lift, datapad in hand, his thoughts churning with too many things, too many plans and decisions to be made that he’d been putting off for far too long, his other fist pressing the button for _down_ once again. 

* * *

  
~~~OO*~*OO~~~

* * *

  
The next time Rey woke up, her mind was much less murky, much less floaty, and there was no dark presence filling up the room with coldness. No shadow or oil. Lord Ren was on the edge of her Feelings, but not _here._ She was slightly relieved, happy to have her own space and not afraid for her mind. There was no foreign thing pressing against her thoughts, trying to get in—

Rey shook her head.

She didn’t want to think about it.

The room was still cold, but it was the kind of cold that she could pull up a blanket to avoid. She gave a tired sigh, shivering slightly, and pulled at the covers. As she did, though, she experienced two things: the sudden _overwhelming_ sensation of the blanket fibers against the skin of her exposed forearms, and the undeniable feeling of restraints on her wrists, halting her movements. 

She opened her eyes, noting the lights seemed dimmer now than before, but that small distraction was not enough to take her away from the fact that her skin felt about _one-thousand_ times more sensitive than it had ever been before, ever in her life, and _she had restraints on her wrists_ , keeping her arms tied to the raised side-guards attached to the bed. 

Rey shut her eyes in shame, knowing the cuffs were because of her stupid meltdown in front of Lord Ren. She had no right to keep him from using his powers on her, no right to keep him from her mind. It didn’t matter that she was hurt from Lord Tomaxx. She was a slave; her pain and discomfort didn’t matter.

Lord Ren had warned her, once upon a time, that if she couldn’t calm herself she’d wake up in difference restraints. Well, here they were. 

Resigned to her current punishment, she took in a deep, shuddering breath, and immediately coughed from the dry oxygenized air from the mask over her mouth. Within the next moment a medidroid wheeled in.

<would you like some water?> it asked.

Rey nodded gratefully, giving a warbled, “Yes please,” before another fit of coughing overtook her. The droid went to a machine, took a cup from the table beside it, placed it on a little tray beneath a nozzle, and then waited as water began pouring. 

The girl marveled at it, the ease of access, how there wasn’t any money or bartering involved. If you wanted water, just place a cup. Simple. Easy. Free. Abundant.

When the droid turned to her with the full cup and straw, Rey’s bed began to _move,_ startling her, raising her torso so that she was sitting up. After moving the mask down below her chin, the droid held up the cup and straw, and Rey drank, closing her eyes in pure ecstasy. 

Crisp. Cool. _Water._ It was almost painful how cold the water was, actually. She wasn’t used to drinking it any colder than body temperature. But she was determined to get used to it. 

Having had her fill, she leaned back. 

<Do you require to use the facilities?>

Rey frowned, feeling the needs of her body.

“Not really.”

<If you require to use the facilities, press the call button by your right hand> It pointed to said button.

“Thank you,” she murmured, inspecting the panel of buttons there curiously. She turned back to the droid, noting the low lights again, and…somehow she knew there were less human medics around.

“What time is it here?”

<it is 22:34>

Ah, so nighttime then. Or whatever constituted ‘nighttime’ in a place with no sun. 

“Thank you.”

<do you need anything else?>

_I need to get out of here and not be sick_ , she thought glumly. _I need to prove myself, prove my worth._

“No, thank you.”

It lowered her bed back to flat, and then beeped and left.

Rey stared up at the ceiling panels and blew out a sigh. She wiggled her arms to see how much movement she had, and shuddered from the feeling of her skin again. Gooseflesh broke out across her body, and she looked down her torso at her limbs. She moved her legs and felt the same wave of tingles all over. Why the kriff was her skin so sensitive? 

Movement outside the doorway caught her eye, and she watched curiously as a soldier in white armor moved by, carrying something. She remembered seeing similar soldiers around the market the day she was stolen. So they were part of this ship? This First Order? 

Did Lord Ren command them? Or was there a separate command system for them? They did not seem like they’d be part of Lord Ren’s Knights, but then again, Rey probably didn’t seem like it either. She really had no leg to stand on to judge.

It was straining her neck to hold up her head this way, so she dropped it, staring up at the ceiling again. She wasn’t very tired, but she knew she should probably try to sleep, to acclimate to the time. 

It was going to be impossible, though. Her mind was too awake, too curious about this place that wasn’t the inside of Lord Ren’s rooms. Everything was so clean and new. So grey and shiny black. She wished she could get up and explore the water machine, or touch the holoscreen showing her vitals, or check to see what was outside her little room. But she was tied down. 

As Rey began to count the ceiling panels, she stopped after only thirty-two when she realized she could feel Lord Ren getting closer. Her heart began thumping, somewhat painfully.

It was so strange, to feel him even though he wasn’t next to her. Surely she hadn’t been able to sense him so much before, right? _Maker,_ the sensations of her mind and body were absolutely going _haywire_ today. Was it a symptom of her illness? Of the medicines they’d given her? 

There was nothing she could do to try and present herself better should Lord Ren come to see her. She was tied down. There would be no kneeling. She’s not sure she’d be able to get out of bed anyways. Her mind felt relatively energized, and yet her body was so weak. Five days suspended in bacta liquid probably had not helped her muscle strength, on top of being so ill before. 

It wasn’t long until her master’s presence was near-overwhelming again, signaling his arrival. And then he was walking through the door, every massive, dark bit of him, bringing his brand of cold in as he did.

He paused just inside the doorway after entering, keeping a distance from her bed, mask tilted.

“I’m not here to punish you or scold you in any way,” he said quietly, “nor will I go into your mind. Your heart is still healing. So it’s very important that you calm down, and _stay_ calm. Can you do that?”

Rey realized her machines were beeping out her elevated heartbeat, betraying her heightened anxiety. She glanced at the monitor, then back at Lord Ren, afraid to have that icy touch against her mind even though she had no right to keep him out. 

But, she could Feel that he was being truthful. Her mind was safe— for now. 

She nodded. 

“Yessir, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured. “Just breathe. Close your eyes, and _breathe.”_

“Yessir,” she whispered, doing as he said. It was only a minute or so as her heart slowed, although halfway through when Lord Ren’s electronic voice rumbled, “That’s it, very good,” it may have skipped a beat. 

She’s not sure she’ll ever get used to his quiet praise.

When she could feel and hear that her heart had calmed, she opened her eyes. Lord Ren hadn’t moved, but she could now see that he was clutching a datapad by his side.

He held it up.

“It’s for you,” he said. “To keep you occupied.” 

She tried to move to sit up, gratefulness threatening to overwhelm her because she truly didn’t deserve the device after yelling at him about it in his _rooms—Maker,_ she really was so _ungrateful—_ but her wrist restraints immediately made themselves known again, and Rey stilled herself, her face heating from shame.

Right. Her punishment. 

“I see they took measures into their own hands,” Lord Ren mused, putting the datapad down on a metal trolley next to him.

“I know I deserve them,” Rey rasped, shamefaced, “for my actions earlier. Not being calm. Trying to pull out my lines.” _Trying to keep you out._

He seemed to be studying her for a moment.

“You were very afraid,” he murmured thoughtfully. 

Rey swallowed, eyes downcast, nodding shamefully. 

“But you’ll be calm now, won’t you,” he stated quietly, an order—and a threat— hidden in the soft electric rumble. 

She looked up, daring to be hopeful, hearing a blip on the monitor that she took a deep breath to cover up as she nodded with a hoarsely whispered,

“Yessir.”

“And you’re not going to try to pull them out again, are you.”

Somehow his quiet voice felt more intimidating than his loud one. She suppressed a shiver and shook her head. 

“No, Sir.”

She wouldn’t dare. 

He nodded. “Then there’s no need for these.” He made a small movement with his hand, and suddenly the clips and straps that held the restraints closed, came loose. Rey looked down at them, then back up, seeking permission. 

“Go on,” he prodded.

She slowly slid her arms from the loosened cuffs, remembering the way her restraints on Jakku had unlocked the same way. That auction felt like a lifetime ago.   
  
“Thank you, Sir,” she choked out, then coughed, wheezing as she pushed herself shakily upright, reaching for the cup of water and moving her mask to take a few more sips. The coolness of it, coupled with the frigid air around her master made her shiver. She quickly put the cup down to avoid sloshing the water.

“Are you cold?” Lord Ren asked.

She wanted to say, no, I’m not, it’s not a problem, I’m fine. But it would be a lie, and Lord Ren told her not to lie anymore.

“Yes,” she whispered, head lowered, arms coming up to hug the blanket to herself.

“I’ll make sure you’re given an extra blanket,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir,” she rasped, slightly distracted by her skin again. She ran her fingers down her arm, a small, hoarse gasp escaping her.

“What are you doing?” He growled, tense.

Rey’s shoulders came up in defense, her gaze flitting up to him. 

“I’m not pulling them out,” she insisted, realizing what it looked like. “I’m just….” She looked back down, smoothing another pass down her arm, watching more gooseflesh appear, shivering from the sensation. 

“My skin is _so soft_ ,” she mumbled. “I don’t think it’s ever felt this soft before. And everything feels _so much_.”

Lord Ren watched her quietly. “It’s probably from the bacta. Your skin might be sensitive for a little while.”

She frowned, peering down at the pads of her fingers and palms. 

“My scars are almost gone,” she muttered in awe, slightly peeved to see her calluses were peeling off too, then moved the blanket to pull her left pant leg up to her knee to inspect it.

She touched a few faded lines on her skin that were almost completely erased, then shivered and covered her leg again. She reached up to probe at her skull, curious if it had healed the dent, but found it where it always was. 

_Figures._

She’d always have that to remind her of Vins.

Rey was quickly distracted by her hair, though. She’d thought her skin was soft, but, _Maker,_ her _hair…._   
  
Aside from the slightly foreign feel of it being down for more than a minute, it was so silky, and when she pulled it over her shoulder to look at it more closely, she was amazed to see how shiny it was. 

“Is this normal?” She breathed.

Lord Ren didn’t reply for a moment, his robotic voice staticky when he did.

“Is what normal?”

She looked up, gobsmacked. “Does your bacta make everything like new? I feel like I’ve been given a different body.”

His head tilted, amusement trickling through his stony coldness. 

“It certainly did a better job healing you than the bacta you’re probably used to.”

She shook her head. “I was rarely given bacta. It was too expensive.” Her voice reduced to a mumble. “I wasn’t worth it.” 

There was only one or two times that Troog had paid for bacta to heal her, and it had been because her injuries had been bad enough to keep her from working. For almost all other injuries, she’d just worked through them, the strength of her endurance and pain tolerance pulling her through.

“Well,” Lord Ren murmured, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re worth it now.”

Rey looked up, still unsure if he meant to say such things about her. She was useless, worthless. She was a burden. She deserved far worse than just restraints. They should have let her die—

“Stop that,” he said, and Rey flinched. 

“Sir?”  
  
“Whatever you’re thinking. Stop it.”

She felt her chest constrict, her hand coming up to her hairline as if she could physically keep him from going into her mind. He said he wasn’t going to, he said he wouldn’t, why did he, how did he—

“I don’t need to go into your head to read you, Girl,” he grumbled. “You’re being _very loud_. A youngling could hear you.”

“A what?” She breathed shakily, still reeling. 

Lord Ren seemed to take in a bolstering breath, letting it out slowly, and Rey could feel a pressure change in the air. Somehow his attempts to be restrained made her feel worse. She’d only been awake for less than an hour and she was already a problem again. Already making him angry.

She knew was a burden. She knew her stupidity was tedious. She was so ignorant about so much in this place. Oh, how she longed for the simplicity of the machine shop on Jakku. 

Convinced he was just going to leave, Rey was surprised when the door suddenly closed instead, enclosing them together. The room felt very small, very suddenly. She watched as his hand made another small motion, and then a chair by the wall slid across the floor to his side. 

His casual Force-magic was a wonder to see, especially the non-violent variety. But it was the memory of his other powers that had her struggling to keep her heart rate down now.

_Breathe, Rey. Breathe._

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he sat. Even with the distance, and even sitting forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands lax, he was intimidating. Like a gargoyle.

Slightly thrown off by the sudden question, Rey blinked for a beat as her mind caught up with her. She studied herself before answering, wanting to be as truthful as she could be. She did not want to anger him, especially not in this small room. She wanted to show she was learning. She can be good. She can obey.  
  
“I feel weak,” she rasped, “and my throat hurts, and…my head is a little foggy. And this mask hurts my face a lot. But I’m not tired.” She looked down at where her hands were still absentmindedly touching her arms. “And my skin feels like it’s been recalibrated to the power of ten-million for sensitivity.”

“Hm,” he rumbled. “If the mask bothers you, you can it take off for now. But as soon as you have trouble breathing or feel lightheaded, you’re to put it back on, understood?”

“Yessir, I understand,” she said gratefully. She pulled the mask so it hung from her neck, relieving the pressure from her chafed skin. She took in a deep breath, smoothing her raw cheeks and feeling another wave of gooseflesh from the softness. 

Lord Ren waited, probably to make sure that she wasn’t going to collapse without the extra oxygen, before continuing. 

“Do you remember the three rules I gave you?”  
  
“Yessir,” Rey rasped, looking up. How could she forget? 

“Don’t leave the rooms, don’t use my powers on you, and don’t misuse the datapad.”

“Good,” he nodded. “I’m amending them. You are still not to go around the blocks I’ve put on your datapad. But you won’t be secluded to my rooms anymore. Once you’re deemed well enough to leave the medbay, you’ll be accompanying me about the ship. You’ll need to learn it in order to serve me well. Eventually, if you can prove yourself to be competent and reliable, you’ll run errands on your own.”

The monitor beeped her excited pulse, and they both looked at it. Embarrassed, Rey took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm it. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered. Finally. She was finally going to be useful. She was finally going to be able to earn her place here.

“It might be several weeks until you’re discharged, though,” he said. “Which is why I’ve brought this.” He motioned to the datapad placed on the trolley beside him. “In the meantime I want you to study.”

“Study?”

He nodded. 

“There are many rules and regulations aboard this ship, within this Order, and within my circle. The most important of these are the Way of Ren. Even though you are not a Knight or an apprentice, I will expect you to follow the code I set down for us.”

Rey nodded somberly. “Of course, Sir.” She’s changed masters enough times to know the drill. New master, new rules. 

“I’m very strict about the rules, Girl,” he warned. “Learn them well, because I do not allow repeat offenses. There will be a grace period while you are still healing, but once you are discharged I will not hesitate to punish and correct you for missteps.”

“Yessir.” 

“Good.” He looked to the side for a moment, thinking, and then back at her. 

“As for the last rule,” he began, slow with contemplation. “About using your powers on me. I am…temporarily suspending it.”

“Okay,” Rey whispered hesitantly, slightly relieved, confused, and worried in equal measures. “Why?”

“Because you used your powers on me again, when I was here this morning,” he explained in a low tone, “and I think it’s unreasonable for me to punish you for something that you cannot yet control.” 

“I _what?”_ She choked, heart thumping again.

“Shh shh shh,” he hushed with a stream of static. “ _Calm down_. You obviously didn’t know what you were doing. It was instinct; a defense mechanism like last time. When I touched your mind, you used the Force to physically push me away.”

Rey listened with growing horror, although she breathed in deeply and let it out slowly to try and keep her heartbeat even. 

“I-I’ve never done that before, I didn’t even know I could do that,” she insisted, trying to remember. “I _pushed_ you? With the— with the Force?” 

“Yes.”

Her chest constricted, the heart monitor beeping away. Dark memories threatened to ooze up from the deepest recesses of her mind. Rey dug her nails into her wrist beneath the blanket, trying to ground herself, the extra sensory information sending a small shock up her arm. 

_No, none of that. Come on, Rey. Breathe. **Breathe.** _

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes and she quickly tried to blink them away, her voice growing more hoarse, and she hoped he would just attribute it to her illness.

“Did I…” she swallowed thickly. “Did I hurt you?” 

She shouldn’t have these powers. All she seemed to do with it was wrong things. Wrong things and, and worse.  
  
“No,” Lord Ren answered, his wry amusement audible even through his vocomodulator. “It would take a lot more than that to hurt me.” 

His tone became more serious.

“So whatever you’re thinking that’s upsetting you so much, _stop.”_

She very quickly realized her mistake, that this was no normal man with normal weaknesses. She wasn’t even sure if he was human, but she doubted anything she could do to him would ever hurt him. The notion allowed her enough relief to bring herself back from the frenzied dark thoughts that had begun to swarm. 

After she quietly apologized again, Lord Ren continued. 

“You used your powers on me again, and thus I have come to a decision. While I am forbidden from training you as an apprentice, I feel that it is my duty as a Force-sensitive to teach you basic control so that you don’t injure yourself or others on accident someday. Once you’re stable and I know your heart won’t give out from the stress of it, we will begin.”

Rey blinked, and distantly wondered if she was dreaming still. This was not what she had expected to hear, anytime soon. She thought she would have to prove herself a bit more in order to earn this forbidden knowledge from her master. 

“H-how?” She rasped, pressing the mask to her face again when she started to feel lightheaded.

Lord Ren sat up rigidly.

“You should be lying down,” he growled. “At least raise the headboard so you’re not sitting up like this.”

Rey looked down at the buttons and did as she was told, secretly grateful to be given permission to lie back. It was easier to breathe with her torso at this angle, not hunched over, but she kept the mask to her face for a few moments more.

“I told you not to push yourself, Girl,” he growled, fists clenched on his thighs. “If I have to remind you to stay calm and breathe again, _you will not enjoy it_.”

“Yessir. Sorry, Sir,” she rasped, contrite, reaching to take another sip from the water and whet her throat before continuing. 

“I don’t know where this power comes from,” she croaked, putting the cup back and breathing into the mask again. “How can I control it?” 

It was the same question she had asked the day he’d set down the rules. How can she control that which she had no understanding of? Lord Ren could use it so effortlessly, moving objects, unlocking things, holding her body. How could she ever get to that level? 

“It seems to come out when you’re afraid,” he said ponderously, sitting back with less tension now. “So for now we will work on controlling your fear. Once you can experience fear without lashing out through the Force, you’ll have a better understanding of what it is, and how to bring it out in a controlled way.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to control it,” she murmured forlornly, taking in a ragged breath. 

“You will,” he assured her quietly. “I’ll help you.”

Rey nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything. She felt despondent, hopeless, terrified of disappointing him, and yet excited, thankful, and humbled that he chose fit to offer this. 

“Here.” He took the datapad and, still keeping a distance, reached to hand it to her. 

“I’ve set it up so the rules are easily accessible to study.”

Rey took it and tapped through the tabs Lord Ren had left open, seeing that the lists of rules were all there and readable. She’d study them immediately, learn them intimately. She would not disappoint her master. 

Another idea came to mind, and she looked up.

“Are there schematics of the ship?”

His head tiled. “Schematics?”

“A map, so I can study it too, so you don’t have to show me around the whole ship. I can learn the map and be more useful sooner.”

“That will be a lot of information to learn, Girl,” he rumbled. “Don’t take on more than you can handle.”

Rey’s self-loathing rose alongside her pride. 

“I have a lot of faults, Sir,” she admitted hoarsely, “But I do learn fast.”

He was silent for a short time as he thought, and then he nodded. 

“Yes, I can add them.” 

He stood, reaching back for the device, then tapped about the screen. Rey probably could have found them on her own, but she had a feeling they might be secret. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. 

“There,” he said, handing it back. “It’s only the corridors and rooms that a level two clearance can access, but that should be enough for now.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll learn everything as soon as possible.” She’d learn this ship forwards, backwards, and upside down. She’ll not be a burden by being dependent on Lord Ren to get around. 

“Just make sure you _rest,”_ he reminded her severely. “You’re healing. Don’t make yourself sick again. I have more important things to do than make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Rey lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Hm. We’ll see.” 

Rey felt a challenge spark in her breast at the jibe. She’d show him. She’d recover faster than anyone expected, and then she’d be the best servant he ever had. 

He nodded at the datapad, his tone stern.

“You can study, but not too late. I know you’re not tired, but you need to acclimate to this ship’s cycles. Your circadian rhythm is already thrown off from your coma; we don’t want to make it worse.”

“Yessir,” she promised. 

“I’ll know if you stay up too late,” he warned. “Consider this your first test. Don’t disappoint me, Girl.”

“I won’t,” she said, her voice raspy but strong, daring to look up at him with conviction. She won’t disappoint him ever again. Not if she could help it. 

He nodded. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to check with the medics.”

“Okay.”

He stood stiffly for a moment, and Rey wondered if she was supposed to say or do something. But then he just gave a curt nod, turned, and left with a sweep of black robes and cold air. 

A minute later while she began reading the first list, a droid entered, bringing another blanket. She took it was a soft thanks, and spread it out, humming appreciatively at the warmth and sensation against her skin. 

She had a small smile beneath the mask pressed to her face as she resumed her reading. A hushed _“bolt by bolt”_ breathed out between her soft lips as something lit up beneath the challenge in the pit of her chest, something that almost felt like hope.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING W H E E Z E 
> 
> WHEW
> 
> We gotta LOTTA stuff in this chapter. If you squint you can almost see character development 😂   
> Also something else 👀 😏😏🤔😳😏 hehehehe
> 
> What do you guys think?? I'm very curious to hear what you guys found in this chapter. 
> 
> In other news, work is obliterating me so I might have to go down to posting one chapter a week 😭😭😭 I am so brain dead. They got me teaching twenty classes a week at four schools. RIP. I don't want the quality of my chapters to go down, so I'll do this until I feel like I can go back up to two a week again. Thank you in advance for your understanding and patience 😭❤️❤️❤️ I'm sorryyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo checks up on Girl, and answers some questions...  
> Posting date: Wednesday, June 3rd, 9PM Japan time


	37. The Way of Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo checks on Girl, Rey asks some questions about The Way of Ren...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one! 😁✨

* * *

Kylo’s alarm woke him from the deepest sleep he’d gotten in two weeks. 

He felt both weighed down by the rest and rejuvenated, his limbs like lead but his mind sharp and clear. He stood and stretched, still slightly stiff in some places, but feeling much more healed than before, with very little pain anymore. 

Even his bruises were on the green and yellow side of healing, which meant soon the evidence of his self-induced punishment for being so weak would be gone. He was determined to learn from those mistakes, determined to not repeat them. As powerful as he had felt over the past several days, he now knew intimately what he had only assumed before: too much pain resulted in a chaotic amount of power. It was too dangerous to experiment with. 

After his morning ablutions Kylo dressed quickly, anxious to get back to his usual routine—meditation, forms practice, breakfast, and then whatever tasks to be done for the day. Which, today, would be checking on the medic’s plans for Girl’s recovery, touching base with the Knights, and then research. 

Darth Vader’s helmet emerged from its containment at his beckoning, and he kneeled to meditate before it. There was no deep voice greeting him, but he still felt the Dark Lord’s presence as he concentrated and centered his mind, finally finding a bit of the balance he’d been without for too long. 

The conflict with Cseenan and his preoccupation with Girl had thrown him off-kilter. And like an infection left to fester, his uncontrolled emotions had started to spread and wreak havoc in every part of his life. He would need to work hard to right things with Cseenan, and he was going to have to temper himself when he confronts Tomaxx about Girl’s mind. 

This is why routine and discipline were so important. They helped him maintain control over the dark emotions he had embraced when he joined the Dark side. He was more powerful than ever, but it required strict self-command in order for him to access the power without falling prey to it. 

Since his conversation with Tomaxx he had found some closure, although he knew it would not be complete until he fixed things with Cseenan. There was a weight lifted from him now, but it could very well be replaced with something else if he did not resolve his conflict with the Barabel. It was even a wonder the Knight had stuck around; Kylo had been truly an abysmal Master for the past two weeks. For everyone. 

He knew what he needed to do for the Barabel, and since his conversation with Girl last night, he felt much more attuned to what he needed to do to be a better master for her now as well. 

He had been kidding himself, thinking he could just go to the medbay and drop off the datapad without speaking to her directly. Fate had seen to it that he did his duty himself, as there had been no one in the main lobby aside from a droid, not even the stormtrooper. 

So he’d gone to her room, and somehow he’d managed to have a conversation with her that had gone _well,_ relatively speaking. She was still slightly infuriating with how little she regarded her own health, and her ignorance of things he’d taken as common knowledge had been somewhat jarring again. But it hadn’t ended with anyone worse off, so he was taking it as a small win.

After the youngling comment he had ended up finally making a decision to actually sit down and have the talk they should have had the day she arrived. Supreme Leader had said he couldn’t train her, but Kylo could not let her live in such total ignorance of her powers anymore. It was dangerous at this point. 

Girl seemed receptive, listening and responding intently in spite of her weak state. Her sudden, panicked concern for him after he told her she’d pushed him with the Force had been both amusing and irritating. But he knew she was only terrified of her powers, and terrified still of incurring his wrath. Her bright fire had dimmed since her explosive emergence from the tank, but it was more sturdy now than before. She needed to learn how to control it.

And thus the rule amendment. 

It felt good to give her something constructive to do with her time, felt good to finally establish their roles—he would give orders, and she would follow them. He was her master, and he would act like it now. He had claimed her, which meant he had a responsibility towards her and her needs. Which meant taking charge, taking control. 

He realized part of his earlier apprehension about doing so with her was from his abhorrence of treating his Knights like mindless servants. He’d always respected them more than that, had treated them more as equals than as lowly subordinates. He would not control their every move because to do so was undignified. 

But Girl was different. She evidently needed more direction, practically begged for commands. She was neither a Knight nor an apprentice, and so she would not be treated as such. She was a slave, which meant he did not need to worry about overstepping his authority. His was the only authority in her life now, and it seemed that she was willing to accept whatever that meant, even to her own detriment. 

Kylo would have to be more aware of how far she pushed herself now, though. She was capable of enduring harsh treatment to the point of death. He would not allow that anymore. 

He’d stayed up last night, keeping an eye on her in the Force until he could tell she was trying to sleep again. Even though she had still been very much awake until after the ship’s midnight, he knew she was trying, and he hadn’t specifically said what time she needed to be sleeping by, so he would grant her leniency there. 

Today he would see how much she’d managed to learn from the rules, although he did not expect much. There were a lot to learn.

After meditating, the training room was next, and he decided to forgo any droids to avoid destroying any more units. He had a feeling engineering was becoming put-out by how many he and his Knights had been breaking lately, and he didn’t want to end up in a confrontation with any of the officers there. 

The engineering corps were a particularly strict bunch, even more so than the medics, with a commander who was almost more robot than man now, having been grievously injured while serving in the old Imperial army. Kylo had almost gotten into a physical altercation with the engineering officers on more than one occasion when they had protested his use of droids in training, complaining about a waste of resources. 

Supreme Leader had gotten involved then, and Kylo had sworn he wouldn’t be wasteful. He and his Knights had done a decent job until the past couple weeks. 

Yes, it would be better to avoid destroying any more droids for now. 

Practicing forms helped loosen his stiff muscles and cleared his mind even more, although he still felt the shadow of his recent failings trailing his every step. He’d almost killed Cseenan, right here. Kylo knew that Tomaxx would have probably intervened, and that act alone would have snapped him out of it, but he did not like how close to such an act of betrayal he had gotten. 

Had it truly been Visser’s ghost who had been whispering in his ear? Or just a hallucination from his own warped mind? It was difficult to say, but as much as he wanted to look into it more, Kylo more than anything wanted to put this all behind him and move on.

He washed up quickly and ate breakfast in his rooms, browsing the news. There was no mention of suspicious persons wreaking havoc on Jakku, so it seemed his Knights had managed to evade having their secrecy broken by what happened on the desert planet. Curious now about the details they had left out in their verbal recant in the Archives room, Kylo reread the report done on the mission, his frown deepening. 

_“Upon interrogating Lor San Tekka and securing information pertaining to the location of the map, we destroyed the camp and killed all life-forms. One nomad had evidently escaped detection and alerted the local authorities….”_

This did not mention Cseenan eating the old man, nor what had sparked such a reaction. Normally Tomaxx was more detailed than this, so the fact that he was purposefully vague elevated Kylo’s want to know. He would have to get those details from the Barabel himself when he and the Chiss got back from Donadus. 

Kylo had received a quick status report from them last night that they had made contact with some pirates in Tomaxx’s network and were pursuing the droid without delay. He anticipated another update today telling him they had acquired the map piece at long last. Soon they would fall like a hammer on Skywalker’s location, with all the strength and might of the Dark side and the First Order combined. The old Jedi would have no where to run, no where to hide. Kylo would destroy every last trace of him from the universe. 

Finished with eating and browsing the datapad, he got up and donned his helmet. Time to go check on the girl. 

The medbay was more lively now that it was day-cycle, although the trooper was still absent. Kylo secretly hoped the soldier had been pulled away for good, or punished for some unrelated mistake. He was still annoyed by his attitude from the other day, but decided it wasn’t worth his time to think about it anymore. He had more important matters to attend to.

Girl was sitting upright in her bed, the oxygen mask hanging from her neck, her brows furrowed in concentration down at the datapad in her hand, uncaring of the medidroid that was checking the blood pressure of her other arm. She looked up when he entered, a spike of anxiety piercing the air between them, echoed by the heart monitor. 

She’d managed to procure ties and had her hair back up in the three buns again, and Kylo briefly wondered if she’d done so to avoid preening so distractedly again the way she had last night. She’d certainly been wholly enamored by her skin, so innocently in awe as she’d gone looking for scars, exposing all the fine, sun-bleached hairs along her leg. She’d been so enraptured that Kylo himself had become curious. Just how soft was her skin? 

It didn’t matter. 

Girl had better color to her today, her face reddening as the droid beeped and informed her that her blood pressure was too high.

Kylo tilted his head where he stood just inside the doorway. 

“Even the droids have to remind you to be calm,” he admonished. “You’ll never recover at this rate.”

Girl sent an accusatory glare at the droid before dropping her gaze. 

“Sorry, Sir.”

Her annoyed glower made his mouth twitch and he pressed his lips together.

“Hm. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” she reported, then twitched, nervousness bubbling up from her small lie. 

“I mean…I’m…” her eyes searched around as she thought. “My throat feels better,” she finally added, the less raspy sound evidence to support her. “I’m still weak, but I can walk better.”

Kylo was pleased that she was learning not to hide her ailments, but frowned. 

“You’ve been up walking?”

The hand trapped in the grasp of the droid motioned at another door.

“The ‘fresher,” she muttered. “They still have to help me a little. I almost fell.”

She was practically an invalid yesterday morning, so only needing a little help to walk today seemed to Kylo a marked improvement.

“Have they given you food yet?” He asked.

“I’m not really hungry,” she mumbled.

“That’s not what I asked,” he intoned, watching as she fidgeted and avoided his gaze.

The lead medic chimed in from the doorway, cutting off her small apology.

“Lord Ren, I was about to comm you.” He stepped into the room, eyeing the distance Kylo was keeping from the bed without comment, moving to stand beside him.

He addressed Kylo as he scanned the medical file in his grasp. 

“Her vitals are looking much better, although her pulse is a bit erratic. She’ll have palpitations and shortness of breath for a little while longer until her body heals. We’ve been giving her large doses of vitamins and minerals to help boost her immune system and iron levels. Her bone marrow should hopefully be coming back, so she’ll be less lethargic as her anemia goes away.”

“I’m not tired,” she said in a small voice.

The medic looked at her over his datapad.

“You will be.”

He continued when she shrank quietly, not saying anything else.

“It’ll be about a week or two of clear broth and juice before her appetite begins to return, Milord. Then we’ll start reintroducing solid foods. Thin nutrimeal, mostly. She’ll be on nutrimeal for a few weeks until we’re positive she won’t suffer Refeeding Syndrome.” He glanced back at Girl.

“There will be some discomfort as her digestive track acclimates, but we will keep an eye on her nutritional levels and supplement them intravenously when needed. If there are no unforeseen complications or issues, we can anticipate about a six-week in-patient recovery period.”

_Basically a month._

_Kriff._ Kylo was going to have to find more things for her to do on the datapad. 

By the disgruntled look she gave the medic and then her device, she seemed to be thinking the same thing. 

The doctor went to the droid, inspecting its readout with a look of concern.

“Your blood pressure is a bit high.”

Girl sighed, grumbling, “Sorry.”

The officer side-eyed Kylo and then focused back on the readout.

“Nothing to be sorry about, considering the circumstances,” he muttered. Then he noticed her hanging mask, and his tone turned annoyed.

“Stop removing your oxygen mask. It’s there for a reason. I’ll put the restraints back on if you can’t leave it.”

Kylo tensed, the idea of someone else handling his slave with threats making him decidedly _not_ happy. 

Her arm now released from the droid, Girl lifted the mask to press over her mouth as if to appease him, but did not move to secure it there.

Her gaze flickered to Kylo and then back, pouting. 

“It hurts my face.”

The medic pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “We can put more bacta on it. You need the extra oxygen.”

“Why? My lungs are fine.”

“Because it will help you _heal.”_ He turned to Kylo with a frustrated sigh. 

“She’s as stubborn as you are, milord. I’m beginning to think you purposefully seek out the most bull-headed castaways for your cause.”

The air chilled around Kylo. He clenched his fists at his side.

“Are you done?” He growled at the man. He would not have some medical officer insulting him and his Knights. 

Girl shivered and sat rigidly, staring down at her lap silently, breathing shallowly.

Also sensing the cold mood, the medic schooled his features into something more begrudgingly respectful. 

“Apologies, milord,” he ground out. “There’s one last thing. Since she’s a bit more stable now, we’ve scheduled to perform a full physical on her later today. If you would like to be present for it, I can message you on your commlink when we are about to begin.”

Kylo frowned. 

They’d all undergone a physical examination at some point, even the Knights; it was required for all crew in the First Order to maintain proper health and fitness levels across all stations. It was routine, and if the female physical was anything like the male one, Kylo felt it would be inappropriate for him to be in attendance for most of it. 

“Is my presence required?”

The doctor gave him a deadpan look. 

“It hasn’t been required since she was admitted, but considering how the past week went, I thought I would extend the invitation purely out of professional courtesy because we both know you’d just show up anyways with or without it.”

If Kylo had the power to kill a man from the heat of his glare alone, the medic would be obliterated by now. But it took barely any effort for Kylo to close off the man’s throat instead.

“You’re right,” Kylo sneered, his hand clawed, “I would just show up, as is my _right_ and my _duty._ And no one would stop me, because we both know what happens to people who _get in my way_.”

The doctor choked, grasping at the collar of his uniform, at his neck, and then when he began to look like he was going to pass out, Kylo released him. The officer wheezed, doubled over, catching his breath for a tense moment, and then straightened with a look of resigned fear and anger, his aged face blotched with red.

Girl managed to make herself seem smaller without drawing attention to it, but the increasing blips from her heart rate and the warning beep from the machine drew both men’s gazes regardless. 

Kylo took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to reign in his temper, trying to control himself. He shouldn’t have attacked the medic in front of her. 

“If my presence isn’t required,” he ground out, “then I will tend to my other duties while the exam is happening. I’m sure Girl will not cause you and your team trouble,” He looked at her, “Right?”

Her shoulders came up in defense, and she shook her head quickly with a raspy, “No Sir.”

“Good.” He addressed the medic again. “Is there anything else?” 

“No, milord,” he replied with a cough. 

“Then get out.”

“Yes, milord.”

The man wasted no time exiting, the medidroid filing out after him, leaving Kylo and Girl alone. 

She’d shut her eyes, the mask pressed tightly to her face now as she breathed slowly, deeply. Kylo waited until her pulse had gone down some before speaking.

“How much did you get done?”

His voice sounded rougher than he’d intended. He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Girl’s eyes blinked open, looked up at him and then quickly down. She cleared her throat. 

“U-um.” 

Her hand shook as she tapped at the datapad in her lap, her voice tremulous as she spoke. 

“I-I read through the Way of Ren, and most of the ship rules. But...there were too many for me to finish last night.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. You tried to sleep.”

“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely, looking at him with an expression that belied a fearful search for validation. 

“I know it was difficult. You did well,” he told her, and some of the tension went out in her body. Kylo felt some of the stiffness in his back loosen as well, and he unclenched his fists.

“Evidently you’ll have plenty of time to learn the rules and ship map, so don’t push yourself.”

Her brows furrowed as she thought for a moment, her hands unconsciously smoothing the skin of her arms. She must still be sensitive, must still be soft. 

“Is it really going to be six weeks?” She asked, her gaze meeting his visor.

Kylo scanned her quietly, calculating her recovery trajectory based on what he could see changed from yesterday.

“We’ll see,” he mused. “They usually overestimate things to be safe. If you follow their instruction and be conscientious of your limits, it might be less.”

She sighed, nodding and looking back down, her fingers trailing around her IV ports. Like last night, he could see the gooseflesh prickling up along her limbs. 

He took a small breath, refocusing. 

“Do you have any questions about the code?”

“Um, no.” She rasped, a lie she quickly caught. She glanced up, eyes wide and shoulders hunched. 

“I mean…Yessir. Sorry, but…” She became nervous, busying herself for a moment by picking up and tapping through the datapad, scanning it quickly. 

“Don’t be frightened, Girl,” he murmured. “I consider this a Table matter. Ask.”

She looked up and gave a worried nod, then back down.

“Um, It says… ‘A Knight recognizes the Sith Code, but is not of the Sith.’” She gave an apologetic wince. “What is the Sith Code? I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Kylo nodded, recognizing the query as valid. He hadn’t included the Sith Code in the list. But it was no matter, he had it memorized. 

“The Sith were powerful Force users for many thousands of years, until about a generation ago,” he explained. _When my uncle committed patricide._

“Their code was, ‘Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free.’”

* * *

  
~~~~~~OOOO~*~OOOO~~~~~~

* * *

  
“Oh,” Rey breathed. 

Her body broke out in gooseflesh, her skin suddenly clammy with sweat. She was sure her face was flushed, and was partially glad for the mask to press to help cover it. It was a strange reaction to have for such a saying, but the words felt deeper than the nonchalant recantation that Lord Ren gave her. 

They felt like a promise. 

A promise for something she never thought would ever be possible for her. 

_‘Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free.’_

What a concept.

Was it true?

Silently Rey berated herself. She shouldn’t even _think_ about such a thing. Lord Ren could probably hear it, and then she’d be beaten for sure. She didn’t deserve to even consider freedom. This was her place in life, her role that the universe had written for her. There was no other option for her, aside from death. Being a slave was inescapable.

Lord Ren continued, seemingly unaware of her frazzled state.

“We see the Sith Code as a strong guide for our worldview, but we are not Sith. Their way of life was too chaotic, too unpredictable. They became an incredibly powerful force in the galaxy, but wiped themselves out with infighting and lust for power. We Knights are much more controlled, much more disciplined. We value loyalty to each other over the unfettered acquisition of power.” 

Rey nodded. “I think I understand. Thank you, Sir.”

Was it loyalty that stopped Lord Cseenan from killing her in the corridor? Was it loyalty that brought him to seek her out in the first place? Was it loyalty that made Lord Tomaxx cut into her mind? If that’s what loyalty looked like in the Knights of Ren, Rey wasn’t sure it was good for her. She wasn’t sure she could trust it. 

“Anything else?” Her master asked. 

_Yes,_ she wanted to say. _Why is music not allowed?_ She wanted to ask. But she was wary of asking such a thing in case it seemed like she was questioning it out of childishness. 

At first after reading the rule— _A Knight only pursues that which makes him stronger, casting all else out. Music, fornication, fanciful entertainment, and so on, lead to distraction, lead to weakness, lead to death_ —she had accepted it. But the more she’d thought about it the more she’d realized that ‘no music’ probably meant she would have to refrain from humming or singing to herself while she worked. 

It was something master Nybian had done, instilling a habit of it in the young slave girl as well after a while. Rey felt like if she wasn’t supposed to even hum to herself, she was going to end up punished often because she often did it without thinking.

She was hesitant to ask about it. And after witnessing Lord Ren almost kill the doctor—a deeply rattling reminder of his capabilities— she was incredibly anxious about sparking his temper in her direction by asking, even if he said this was a ‘table matter.’   
  
“No, Sir,” she said instead. 

He was quiet, and Rey tensed, realizing her mistake. _What are you doing, you idiot? **Don’t lie.**_

“If you have a question,” he said slowly, his voice low with a warning, “then _ask._ I will not be so patient later on.”

Rey tried to think of a better question, something more intelligent-sounding. Her mind grasped at something and she blurted it out.

“What….what does it mean, that you’re ‘loyal to your weapon’?”

Lord Ren seemed to consider her from behind his mask, his invisible eyes making her skin prickle. 

He motioned to his side, to the hilt of his sword.

“We carry lightsabers, which are powered by kyber crystals. They have special Force properties—are influenced by and influencers of the Force. We are loyal to our sabers because they are loyal to us.”

Rey frowned, her interest growing with her confusion. 

“The…lightsaber…is sentient?”

His head tilted. “In a sense. It holds a lot of power, and it carries the weight of emotions, the imprint of memories. When you’re strong enough and have some control over your abilities, I’ll teach you how to sense it.”

Rey stared intently at the weapon, as if she could try and feel the things it contained now, even in her current state.

“Anything else, before I go?”

Rey wished he hadn’t asked again, because now she had to decide whether to try and lie or not again. In the end, she decided chancing a lie was worse than risking sounding childish, and nodded, her gaze finding her lap again, her face reddening as she mumbled in defeat.

“Why is music not allowed?”

He was going to get angry, she just knew it. He was going to tell her to stop being a child, to just learn the rules, not ask anymore questions. She shouldn’t have asked. She should have kept her mouth shut—  
  
“Things that inspire certain kinds of emotions are not beneficial to us,” he answered instead. “We work with things that inspire feelings such as anger, hate, and pain. Through these, we gain much strength in the Force. Music is a distraction from those feelings, one we cannot afford in times such as these.”

Pushing aside the concern she felt about _‘anger, hate, and pain’_ being a focus for them, Rey looked up, brows furrowed. _Times such as these?_

“Why?" She asked. "What’s happening now?”

“We’re preparing for war.”

The way he said it, so simply, so casually, gave her pause as her mind caught up with the full meaning of it.

“Oh,” she said stupidly. War was not something she had any understanding of, outside of the ruins it led to. She understood starship carcasses and legends, not much else. 

He continued, “We have to be focused and strong, otherwise we will fail. There is much yet to be done. ”

They were trying to get ready for a war, and here she was taking up medical resources and taking up Lord Ren’s time. She needed to do better. 

“I promise to not be an extra burden, Sir,” she vowed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he rumbled. He stared at her for a long moment, and Rey did her best not to fidget. Then he spoke.

“I have things I must attend to today. Be on your best behavior for the medics.”

Rey nodded. “Yessir.”

And then just like last night, Lord Ren nodded stiffly again before turning and leaving without another word.

Rey took in a deep breath after his presence had receded, and burrowed a bit under her blankets to reabsorb the warmth she’d lost. Would she ever get used to his coldness? _Probably not._

After warming up her hands she picked up the datapad again, intent to resume her readings with renewed fervor. She had six weeks to kill in this place, and she was determined to have every rule on all the lists memorized by heart by the end of it. 

* * *

_The Way of Ren_

_-A Knight is in touch with the Force, and always strives to keep himself open to it’s influence and guidance. Where the Force directs him, he shall go._  
  
_-A Knight maintains a clear mind through meditation, and works on overcoming his individual issues through training and diligence._  
  
_-A Knight is flexible, embracing the ever-changing galaxy, adapting and changing as it does. “Blessed is the flexible claw, for it shall not be broken.”_  
  
_-A Knight is wary of attachments to the material and personal. Attachments lead to sentiment, sentiment leads to weakness, weakness leads to death._  
  
_-A Knight understands that true strength consists in the physical, the mental, and the spiritual. A Knight trains in each to ensure he remains capable of performing his duties to the best of his ability. A Knight knows that all of these are essential in becoming stronger in the Force._  
  
_-A Knight is mindful of his ego. Ego leads to arrogance, arrogance leads to weakness, weakness leads to death. A Knight always strives to be better educated than his Dead Self._  
  
_-A Knight never surrenders to that which makes him weak. He does everything in his power to destroy it._  
  
_-A Knight does not consume things that tarnish the body—no drug, stimulant, intoxicant, or indulgence._  
  
_-A Knight only pursues that which makes him stronger, casting all else out. Music, fornication, fanciful entertainment, and so on, lead to distraction, lead to weakness, lead to death._  
  
_-A Knight is loyal to his Master, to his brethren, and to his weapon._  
  
_-A Knight looks after his weapon with focus and attention. Without his weapon he is weak._  
  
_-A Knight recognizes the Sith Code, but is not of the Sith._  
  
_-A Knight commits themselves to the Way of Ren, fully, with intent to die for it._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so the canonical Ren doctrine is boring and sucks, so I wrote my own using the Doctrine of Jeddism as a sort of guide. Some interesting rules and ideals here...👀  
> What do you think?
> 
> Also, fun fact: in the Star Wars universe, there are 60 sec in a minute, 60 min in an hour, and 24 hours in a day, but there are 5 days in a week, 7 weeks in a month (meaning there are 35 days in a month), and 11 months in a year.   
> 
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey has her physical....
> 
> Posting Date: Wednesday, June 10th, 9PM Japan time ❤️
> 
> (P.S. America, wtf is happening. BLM ❤️. Stop beating/killing protestors. Are we watching an actual dictatorship form here, folks? I am fucking numb from all of this shit now. Looking up the asylum process in Japan was not something I thought I'd ever, ever do for MYSELF.)


	38. The Chair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey gets a comprehensive physical exam......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨 ⚠️🚨 ⚠️🚨 ⚠️🚨 **TRIGGER WARNING** 🚨 ⚠️🚨 ⚠️🚨 ⚠️🚨
> 
> There is a graphic depiction of a pelvic exam near the end of this chapter. I will mark the beginning with (+) and the end with (-) so that those of you who would like to skip it can ctrl+F the marker, or scroll to find it.  
> There is an un-graphic synopsis in the end notes.

* * *

  
Rey sat and studied for a while until the older doctor—Captain Ithowim—came back. She felt slightly ashamed and sheepish towards him, knowing that she’d been partly at fault for his ending up on the bad-end of Lord Ren’s anger. 

He’d already been gruff earlier in the morning after finding her without the restraints, and had moved to put the cuffs back on when she’d insisted that Lord Ren had released her, hoping it would hold enough sway to keep them off. 

“Of course he did,” he’d grumbled, abandoning the motion. The doctor had made her promise she wasn’t going to pull on her lines again before securing the mask over her mouth and nose with professional brusqueness. 

He’d curtly introduced himself as the medical officer in charge of the medbay, asked her some random questions about herself, what she remembered, and how she felt, checked her eyes and the machines, and then abruptly left. 

She’d left the mask on for a little while, hoping to avoid angering the Captain again, but the chafing had become distracting—especially with how sensitive her skin still was—so she’d let it hang from her neck. 

She’d also managed to tentatively ask for some ties for her hair from a female medic who had helped her to the ‘fresher after she almost fell trying to go by herself, and then she’d sat and studied until Lord Ren had arrived with the doctor not far behind.

After Lord Ren left she secured the mask around her face again, upset at herself for making such a fuss about it earlier. Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a problem. Yes, it hurt her face where her skin was chafed, but she’s endured far worse things before. She was being ridiculous. 

“I see you’ve decided to wear the breather now,” Captain Ithowim said as he came to her bedside, his voice slightly hoarse. Rey ducked her head, nodding. 

He pursed his lips. “Well, you’ll need to take it off again for a bit to drink this.” He had a small cup in his hand that he gave to her after she pulled the mask down. She looked at the murky yellow liquid and sniffed at it. It didn’t smell bad so it probably wasn’t piss. 

“It’s a simple soup broth,” he explained. “You’re to sip at it. _Small_ sips. I’ll be back in a couple of hours with another one. You haven’t had solid food in about two weeks, so we have to wake your stomach up slowly or you’ll end up in worse shape than before.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, slightly surprised that he wasn’t being meaner to her. She peered down at the cup again, wondering if it could be poisoned. But she didn’t Feel anything bad about it, so it must be safe. His care of her made her even more guilt-ridden. 

“I’m sorry,” she said as he turned to go, halting him. The lines of his face made a frown.

“What for?”

She looked down at her lap. “For making Lord Ren mad at you.”

The doctor looked her over thoughtfully, then took a breath to speak. 

“You’re a broken little thing, aren’t you?”

Rey frowned, her chest constricting from the pain of knowing it was true, but slightly confused as to why he was bringing it up.

“Something you’ll learn very quickly aboard this ship, Girl,” he voiced, “is that the list of things that _do not_ make that man angry, is a _very_ short one. He has a short fuse and just about everything has a chance to spark it. You had very little to do with his violence today; His moods are, more often than not, unpredictable.” 

He sighed, pursing his lips again as his gaze wandered away for a beat. 

“Admittedly I should be more careful around him,” he uttered, looking back her, “but your master has been trying my patience for the past week, haunting this medbay like a black ghost, causing all sorts of havoc. It’s a wonder you’re even alive, with the condition he put you in in the first place. And then he has the audacity to question my medical methods?” He scoffed humorlessly. “I’ve been practicing medicine for longer than he’s probably been _alive.”_

He shook his head, glaring off away for a moment before redirecting to her, his expression hardening. 

“Kylo Ren may be a Dark Lord, but _I_ am captain in _this_ medbay, and I will not be intimidated into giving subpar or ineffective care. I have a job to do here, a duty to this Order, and I’ll not let anyone keep me from giving my best performance at my job. He is your master and you will obey him, but I am master _here._ Do you understand?”

Rey hesitated before nodding, suddenly anxious that she’d inadvertently found herself in the middle of some sort of power feud between two men with authority. She had a feeling this was not going to end well for her. 

Captain Ithowim continued, “Even though you are a slave I will do my best to make you well again. But that’s going to require your cooperation, unless you enjoy being restrained?”

“No, I understand, I’ll cooperate,” Rey promised quietly. She truly didn’t deserve this care at all. She would make sure to not take it for granted.

He gave a sharp nod. “Alright.”

He looked at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle. 

“I still don’t understand why he dragged you aboard, but I suppose we’re all stuck with you. It’s good he’s given you those rules to study. This ship is the General’s flagship as well as Lord Ren’s, which means we strictly observe code of conduct.”

Rey felt her skin going clammy again. There was a _General_ on board? She had no idea this ship was so important. 

“I’ll do my best,” she promised again. 

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what that means,” he droned, then indicated at the cup. “Remember to drink it slowly. If it upsets your stomach, wait for about thirty minutes and then try again.”

“Yessir.”

He turned to leave again. “We’ll see how it settles and then try to do the physical around 15:00.”

“Okay.”

And then he was gone, and Rey was left alone with what looked like a mouthful of tepid broth water and a mind suddenly full of more information about her master than she knew what to do with. 

First of all, _Kylo_ Ren? 

She was so certain again that she knew that name, even though this was the first time she’d heard it. Lord Ren’s full name was Kylo Ren. _Kylo._

It was somehow fitting.

She wanted to say it out loud, to sound it out, but grew fearful he could somehow hear it and be summoned, like one of the demonic spirits told about in fireside stories on Jakku. Should she even know his full name? Would he punish her for it? She hadn’t sought it out though. The doctor had told her. 

Second, Lord Ren had apparently been in the medbay often while she had been in the bacta tank. Apparently he’d been ‘causing havoc’, whatever that meant. Why had he been here so often? Checking to make sure his property survived? It wasn’t as if he had bought her, so it wasn’t as if he would have lost money if she’d died. She wasn’t that big of an investment to lose. 

And, he’d spent a week avoiding and ignoring her. Why would he suddenly change course now? Did he feel bad about how sick she’d gotten? 

Rey remembered how she’d yelled at him and gave a full-body wince, almost spilling the broth. She was never going to live that down. How could she be so unhinged? How could she break down and verbally attack her master like that? 

After seeing how he’d almost casually murdered the doctor right in front of her, Rey realized how suicidal she’d been to scream at him before. He could have killed her. Maybe his hand around her throat had been his version of restraint, but it definitely had been a threat and a promise. Disrespecting Lord Ren was akin to a death sentence.

She would truly need to watch herself now. No more hysterical rants, no arguing, no matter what.

Rey felt slightly calmer having made the silent promise. It was a plan, and plans were good. She sniffed at the cup again and then cautiously sipped at it. 

She wasn’t lying earlier when she’d said she wasn’t hungry. She’s actually never felt this content to _not_ eat in her entire life. She contemplated just putting the cup aside until she felt like drinking it, but her conditioning to consume water whenever possibly presented with it pushed her to keep sipping. 

Just like with the white porridge, she let the bland broth settle on her tongue before swallowing, holding still for about two minutes to sense her stomach before cautiously taking another minuscule sip. It seemed fine, so she continued with her slow imbibing as she tapped through her datapad. 

She read through the Way of Ren for a third time, realizing she should have asked Lord Ren what it meant by ‘Dead Self’ in _“A Knight always strives to be better educated than his Dead Self.”_

Was this a literal death or something else? 

Rey wondered if she should have Lord Ren explain all of the rules himself to avoid misunderstandings, but that felt like a waste of his time. She should just ask what was too vague to parse out herself, and figure out everything else by herself. 

The rest of the code seemed easily interpreted, so after reading through it one more time, she switched back to the ship rules. If this ship had important people on board beside Lord Ren, then she definitely didn’t want to cause anymore problems by not knowing proper protocol. 

It was a few hours later, when she’d finished the cup and gotten much further in her studying of the map, that her eyelids began to feel heavy. She tried adjusting her sitting position to see if that would help, but she was just so tired, so suddenly. She nodded off a couple times, jerking upright when her neck strained, but never quite able to stay awake for long. 

At some point she had found a more comfortable position and fallen asleep, lulled by the soft beeping and humming of the machines, because she was awoken by a younger medic.

He introduced himself as Sergeant Wolson, his uniform black where Captain Ithowim’s was light grey, his voice soft where the captain’s was sharp. 

“Did you drink all of the broth?” He asked, peering at the cup on the bedside table. 

“Yessir,” Rey rasped, and cleared her throat of the hoarseness from her nap.

“Excellent,” he praised with a small smile that somehow both loosened some of the tension in Rey’s body, and uneased her. 

“How do you feel? Any upset feelings in your abdomen?”

She shook her head. 

“That’s good to hear. And how’s your throat? Sounds like there’s still some rawness from the ventilator.” 

“It’s a little sore, but better,” She said, hesitantly adding, “Sometimes it hurts to swallow.”

“Hm,” he hummed with a moue of concern. “Let’s have a look, then.” He helped her sit up, gently moving her mask down and directing her to open her mouth, peering down with a pen light from his breast pocket. 

“It certainly looks sore,” he mused with a sympathetic frown. He lightly touched beneath her chin to get her to close, and then eyed the chafe lines on her face. 

“You’re all sorts of abraded, aren’t you,” he murmured, her face tingling where he inspected with his gloved fingertips. He moved back with a decisive air. 

“I’ll get some bacta for these sores, and an anesthetic spray for your throat. It certainly doesn’t help it heal to be coughing so often, does it?”

Rey shook her head, yawning. She wanted to sleep again. 

He watched her and then made a note on his datapad. 

“Now that the excitement has worn off you’re going to be a bit tired until your body heals a bit more,” he explained, taking the empty cup. “And your circadian rhythm is adjusting as well. It’s fine if you want to nap. I’ll wake you up with the medicines, and be back with more broth as well.”

“Okay,” Rey replied, her eyelids drooping again. 

He woke her again to apply the salve to her face and spray something into her mouth to help numb the soreness in her throat, gently telling her to take another couple sips of broth before readjusting her mask.

“Don’t worry,” he told her quietly as he pressed to lower her headboard, “we’ll have you up and out of here in no time.”

Rey could only nod, her eyes already closing, and the medic said nothing else as he left, letting her settle back to sleep once more.

It was an indeterminate time later that Captain Ithowim came in and woke her up fully for the physical examination. 

“How are you feeling? Any discomfort in your abdomen?” 

“Not really,” she mumbled sleepily, her voice raspy but the act of speaking not so painful now.

He hummed with a furrowed brow, and moved her blanket down and her shirt up to press his fingertips around her stomach. She flinched and almost slapped his hands away, but just managed to stop herself by tensing and grasping the blanket to keep her arms down, eyes focused on the ceiling.

“Anything?” He asked as he probed.

“Not really,” she repeated, not exactly sure what to search for. It just felt normal. The only discomfort was having someone touching her, as her skin was still sensitive.

“Well, I suppose that’s a good start,” he said, pulling her shirt back down and making a note on his datapad. 

“Let’s sit up now,” he said, pressing to raise the headboard. “We’ll get you on your feet once your blood pressure evens out, and then we’ll start.”

Rey wasn’t sure what to expect from the exam and it made her a bit nervous. While they waited for her blood pressure to drop a bit, the captain asked her questions about her ‘medical history’, including that of her parents, which she answered as truthfully as she could with what little she knew or remembered. 

The captain seemed skeptical about some of her answers, which continued to make her nervous. But once they got her up and started on the actual exam, she realized it was basically like what she’d gone through before going to auction, and it settled her a little. It also helped that Sergeant Wolson had joined the droid and captain to help, because— in spite of the occasional discomfit she felt from it— the medic was somewhat of a soothing presence with his soft voice and gentleness. 

They checked her height, weight, eyes, ears, and mouth. They took another small blood sample from a prick in her finger, but she balked when they asked her to urinate on a small stick thing. Sergeant Wolson assured her it was a normal test, and after directing her to a ‘fresher and giving her more instructions, she did it, handing it over with a wrinkled nose. 

They also did things she’d never thought could be tested, such as checking her lungs by having her breathe into a tube-device, testing how flexible she was by having her sit on the floor and try to touch her toes, and testing her sight-to-hand reflexes by having her watch a holoscreen and press a button whenever a series of dots lit up in a certain way. 

One of the final tests was supposed to take her heart’s electrical impulse levels. She was directed to lay down on a raised cot, and Sergeant Wolson began methodically placing sticky patches with small antennae on her ankles and wrists.

He reached for the ties on her shirt and Rey reflexively grabbed his hands to stop him, recoiling internally from such a brazen act of defiance. Her wide, nervous eyes rose to meet his more patient gaze.

“I have to place some leads about your chest and ribcage,” he explained, pulling his hands back and pointing to the spots. “Just around here. Do you want to open your shirt yourself?”

Captain Ithowim spoke up gruffly from where he was setting up the machine meant to do the test. 

“Just do it, Wolson.” He gave her a pointed look. “She’s not in any position to not comply.”

The younger medic looked from his superior back down to Rey, his expression silently conveying a question and an apology in one. _I’m sorry. Is this okay?_

Rey thought about how she’d been basically stripped naked multiple times in her life, reasoning this was no different. And like the captain said, it wasn’t as if she really had a choice in the matter. She was a slave. That the sergeant was seemingly asking her for permission to do anything was strange and just made her more uncomfortable. 

He was still hesitating, so she just nodded silently, clenching her fists at her sides and shutting her eyes to block it all out like she usually did.

“I’ll be quick,” the young medic reassured her, undoing the ties that held the top closed. The cool air hit her skin as she was exposed, and she tried to keep her breath steady as more leads—these ones with long wires—were randomly placed around her chest and ribs.

It was only a minute or so before the droid beeped and the Sergeant told her it was finished. He removed the chest leads first and let her re-close her top as he took her leg patches, and then lastly took the ones on her wrists. 

Rey took a deep breath as she was sat up, feeling tired again. They’d been letting her sit and catch her breath whenever she needed to, a droid trailing her and watching her heart rate throughout. But now she really just wanted to sleep. 

“We’re almost done,” Sergeant Wolson said, noticing her yawn. “We’ll just head to another room for the pelvic exam, and then you’ll be finished.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, rubbing at her prickling arms. She wasn’t sure what a pelvic exam was but she hoped it was quick. 

“Some questions first before we do, though,” he said, pulling out his datapad. 

“Do you know when your last menses was?”

Rey frowned. “What’s that?”

“Your monthly bleeding.”

“Oh.” Her frown deepened as she thought about the unexpected question. “I think…maybe four months ago?”

He looked up, concern written on his face. 

“Four months ago? You don’t have it every month?”

“No,” she said, slightly nervous. 

“Well I suppose stress and malnourishment probably have a hand in that,” he mumbled, looking down and typing. 

Rey shrank. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he told her quietly. “You had no control over those circumstances. With proper diet and care your body will regulate normally again.” 

Rey wasn’t sure she wanted it to become regular if it meant dealing with it every month. She was fine only having to clean up the mess a couple times a year. Eleven times would be the biggest headache. 

Wolson continued. “When it does happen, is it heavy flow or light?”

“I don’t know,” she grumbled, cheeks aflame. “It’s just…there.”

“Hm,” he made another note. “Are you sexually active?” 

Rey froze. “What?” 

“Did you have, or are you currently having, sexual relations with anyone?”

_“No.”_

He frowned at her, and she could somehow tell that he didn’t believe her. 

“Never?” He asked.

“No, _never,”_ she repeated.

He hesitated before making a note. 

Rey rubbed at her arms again, shivering slightly. It was less cold than Lord Ren’s rooms, but she felt chilly again now. She did not like these questions.

“So I suppose that means you’ve never been, nor currently are, pregnant?”

She gave him a deadpan look. 

“No.” And she never would be, if she had any say in it. She could barely keep herself alive, she couldn’t imagine bringing another life to join her worthless excuse for an existence.

“Alright,” he said, putting the datapad away. “That’s all for that. Let’s head to the exam room.”

She was led to a small room that had a strange looking chair, and as Rey looked at it she began to have a Bad Feeling. A _Very_ Bad Feeling.

The captain was already there, looking over a set of tools on a metal trolley.

“We’ll have you remove your pants and underwear and sit here,” he said, indicating to the chair. “Legs in the stirrups. Sergeant will put a blanket over your lap for the cold.”

“What?” Rey squeaked, heart pounding. 

“Remove your pants and underwear,” the captain said again, slower, pointing to the strange seat, “and sit here. We’re going to do a routine pelvic exam.”

Rey found herself shaking her head, arms held bent against her chest like a shield, taking steps back.

“N-no, I’m not doing that.”

The older medic’s expression turned stony.

“Girl, this is a routine exam that must be done. We left it for last so you could go back and rest afterwards.”

She knew what this was. They were going to check her for ‘purity.’ They were going to violate and molest her, for the sake of seeing just how ‘clean’ she was. She’d seen similar things done to female slaves on Jakku. Pleasure slaves, bed slaves.

She was no bed slave. She would not be subjected to this.

“No, I don’t need it,” she rasped, trying to breathe, trying to keep herself from becoming too lightheaded. 

“Yes, Girl,” the captain argued, “You _do._ Now don’t be difficult.”

“It’s a very quick procedure,” Sergeant Wolson insisted, approaching her slowly with beseeching hands. “We do it very often.”

Rey stared at him with wide eyes. _“What?”_

The captain gave a put-upon sigh, brows furrowed darkly. “Girl, I really don’t want to have to call Lord Ren, but I will if you don’t cooperate.”

Wolson turned to him, his voice low. “If there’s been trauma, it might be best to wait a little while until after she takes the psychological exam.”

“If there’s been trauma,” the captain ground out, “then it needs to be recorded and treated as soon as possible.”

“Yes,” Rey interjected, drawing confused gazes. “Call Lord Ren. He’ll tell you. I don’t need it. I’m clean. I’m not a bed slave. I’m _not._ I don’t need to be tested.”

“Girl…” the young medic sighed somberly. “This isn’t—“

“I’m not that kind of slave,” she insisted, taking a ragged breath, wishing she had the oxygen mask. “I don’t need the test.”

“Alright,” the captain mused, making Rey’s heart leap and the sergeant’s brows draw down.

Rey thought it was over until he added, “Call Lord Ren. I wish it didn’t have to come to this, Girl, but perhaps your master will have better luck getting you to do what needs to be done.”

“He’ll tell you, you’ll see,” she rasped, but by the stony look from the captain and the pitying frown from the sergeant as he went to make the call, Rey suddenly felt unsure. 

The droid told her she needed to sit and breathe because her heart rate was too fast, so she found a stool and did so, the air tense between herself and Captain Ithowim, who sat on another stool silently observing her.

After a few tense minutes, Rey could tell her master was getting closer, and she found herself both hopeful and fearful of his presence. 

Rey stood shakily when he entered the small room, his mask looking at the chair for a moment before turning to her.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He asked tensely.

Captain Ithowim answered blithely. “We need to do a pelvic exam but she refuses to comply. She insisted you would have something to say to agree with her that she doesn’t need it.”

“Oh?” Lord Ren’s vocomodulator crackled as his head tilted. “I wasn’t aware that I had made any thoughts about it known. Are you presuming to speak on my behalf, Girl?”

“No, Lord Ren,” she whimpered, desperation making her take a few steps closer to him as she pleaded. “But you said…you said I’m not here for…” She looked at the medics, at Sergeant Wolson, who suddenly did not seem as gentle and kind. She felt betrayed. She felt manipulated. She should have known better. She should have listened to her gut about him.

She dared to look up at Lord Ren’s visor, hoping he understood, hoping he would step in and stop this farce. 

“They want me to _take off my pants_ , Sir.” 

“I’m not sure how they’d be able to perform the exam otherwise,” he droned back.   
  
“Lord Ren,” she pleaded, her voice small, “please, I-I’m…I’m _clean._ I’ve never… _I wasn’t a bed slave.”_

“That’s not what the procedure is for,” he told her, voice low. “No one here cares if you’re a virgin or not. This is to determine the health of your bodily systems. _All_ of them.”

Rey hugged herself tighter. “But I don’t understand _why._ If I’m not to be used as a pleasure slave, what does it matter?”

_“Girl,”_ he barked, his tone making her flinch and look down. He continued, his robotic voice crackling with his gruff words. “This isn’t a debate. I don’t care how you feel about it. If the medics have to restrain you to get it done, then you will be tied down. Is that what you want?”

“No, Sir,” Rey warbled through the tears in her throat. She swallowed, holding them back. That sounded even worse.

Lord Ren stayed quiet, the tension crackling between them, the air chilled. He was flexing and fisting his hands by his sides, and Rey prepared herself to be hit, or strangled with the Force. She shouldn’t have made a fuss. This wasn’t something she was going to get out of. Why couldn’t she be better?

She tried to accept it, tried to calm the frenzied thoughts in her mind, but she couldn’t help the quakes rattling her body, couldn’t quite silence her wheezing breaths. Her hands shook where she clasped them, and she had a cold sweat that made her shiver. She didn’t want to do this. _She didn’t want to do this._

Abruptly Lord Ren turned and started walking away, and Rey wondered if he was just going to leave, expecting her to be obedient from now without him saying anything else. 

But he murmured something to the captain, and then stopped at one of the command screens outside the room. After typing something in, he spoke into a commlink, and then moved out of sight towards the main area. 

A few, agonizingly tense minutes later while Rey stood wondering just what was happening, he came back with a woman in tow. Rey assumed she was from another area of the ship, because her crisp, black uniform was of a different design than the medical uniforms of the medics.

Rey frowned, looking between the two as they approached. The woman had a stoic face, but her eyes belied her interest as they fell upon Rey, catching her gaze. Rey shifted on her feet, avoiding the woman’s probing scan by looking down at her shiny boots.

“This is Officer Vines,” her master said. “She’s going to explain to you why you need the exam. And then she’s going to accompany you while it’s done.” 

His voice turned dark. _“Look at me.”_

Rey did as he said, flinching when he pointed at her sternly.

“It _will_ be done. You _will_ be calm and cooperative. Understood?”

“Yessir,” Rey choked out. 

“If I have to come down here again because you’re causing problems, there _will be consequences_.”

Rey trembled, nodding, her mind too full of the possible punishments in store for her to be able to say anything. 

“Good.” Lord Ren turned to the captain. “If she resists again, you have my permission to restrain her.”

Rey’s heart fell. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, blinking the wetness from her eyes. She would not cry.

“Yes, milord,” the doctor said, and then the dark master turned and left again. 

Rey almost wanted to call him back, to ask him to stay, but that would have been childish. She was stronger than that.   
  
After a moment Officer Vines turned to Captain Ithowim.

“If I may have the room alone with her for a moment, captain?” 

The older medic nodded, indicating to the sergeant for them to leave. The younger medic gave Rey one last lingering look before they both left the small room without a word. 

The dark-skinned woman’s expression softened when she turned back to Rey, looking her over. 

Her black hair was swept back in a tight bun beneath her cap, her light-brown skin unblemished. Everyone had such smooth skin here, and Rey distantly wondered if any of them had ever seen the sun before. This woman probably had never toiled in scorching heat. Rey wondered if her own skin looked horrendous and wished she had her old wrappings to be able to cover her face and arms from any judging gazes.

“I’m Officer Mari Vines, of the comms sector,” she said, giving a small nod in lieu of a salute. Rey knew she didn’t deserve such a show of respect. 

“I’m Girl,” she replied quietly. Rey wasn’t sure she was going to like this woman. There was something about her that made her uneasy.

Officer Vines dipped her head. “Well, now I can stop calling you ‘the Junk.’”

The slur made Rey twitch, but she was used to being called such things on Jakku. 

“You can just call me Vines, or Mari, if you like,” the officer said. “When it’s just the two of us.”

“Okay,” Rey mumbled, watching for a negative reaction, “Mari.”

The woman just gave a small smile again, then took a breath, her gaze inquisitive.

“You’re having a physical exam done today?”

“Yes.”

“Which means a gyn-check.” Mari tilted her head, eyeing the strange chair. “Have you ever had one?”

Rey shook her head, still not believing it was for anything truly health related. She’d been taught to never trust anyone who tried to get near her female parts. She’d witnessed too much on Jakku to believe the exam was anything but a way to check if she was clean for sex.

Or breeding. 

They weren’t going to impregnate her, were they? Is that why the sergeant asked her so many questions?

It just didn’t make any sense though. Lord Ren had promised he wouldn’t use her for pleasure. And he hadn’t been lying when he said the procedure was for health reasons.   
  
But…why did it matter? _Why?_

Mari continued, unaware of Rey’s churning thoughts. 

“Well, it’s very routine. All of us female soldiers and officers have it done every year.”

Rey’s voice was small, uncertain when she asked, “But…why?”

Mari made a thoughtful face, then tentatively stepped closer and sat on the other stool the captain had abandoned, wheeling it closer but still keeping a small distance when Rey tensed. She waited for Rey to sit on the other stool before continuing. 

“Well,” she voiced thoughtfully, “most of us aren’t going to mother children right now, so it’s not for fertility reasons. And, while there are rules about fraternization aboard, we’re human. Sex happens. They know it does, and as long as we’re doing our jobs and not causing issues with it, they don’t really care. It’s not as if they can really tell which of us are virgins or not to reprimand us though.”

Rey frowned. “They can’t?”

Mari shook her head. “No. Every girl’s vaginal area is different, it’d be hard to set a standard. And besides that, most people here know that virginity is a religious concept, not a physical state that can be changed. We’re the First Order; we’re a bit farther advanced than such ignorant thinking.”

Rey’s mind whirled. What did she mean, virginity was a concept? Wasn’t there a sign? Didn’t something change? If it didn’t, then what the kriff were they always looking for on Jakku?

Mari continued, “But it doesn’t matter. They’re mostly checking for things like abnormal growths. We experience a lot of radiation out here in space, aboard starships. Tumors and growths happen unfortunately. If they can catch it early, they can get rid of it early before it becomes something serious.”

“Oh.” Rey had no idea such a thing was a problem. She’d seen radiation sickness before, but she didn’t realize that just being on this ship was exposing her to it. Suddenly the pristine cleanliness around her felt tainted with invisible death.

“The exam is a bit uncomfortable, but they’re very quick and efficient here. It’ll be over with in less than three minutes.” She caught Rey’s gaze and held it, her face open and earnest. “I promise.”

Her earnestness made Rey suspicious. Why was she being so kind? What did she have to gain? Rey almost wanted to tell the officer to leave, that she and her manipulations were not needed, but Lord Ren’s threat flashed in her mind. No matter how much Rey didn’t trust this woman, she didn’t want her to be killed by her master for failing to get her to do the exam. 

“I’ll be here,” Mari added. “I can hold your hand if you want. Sometimes it helps.”

Rey searched the officer’s face, looked in her eyes, but she couldn’t Feel a lie from her. She knew she had no choice but to trust the woman, or else she’d be tied down. And she knew that would be worse. She knew she wouldn’t be able to control her powers if they did that. And then Lord Ren would definitely kill her.

“Okay,” Rey whispered hoarsely. “I’ll do it.”

Mari nodded, pleased. “I’ll go get the medics. But first…” She eyed Rey, her face turning serious.  
  
“Have you ever had anything inserted inside your vagina before? By someone else, or yourself?”

Rey balked. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

Mari blinked. “You’ve never masturbated?”

Rey blushed furiously from such a personal question. She shook her head. She’d been curious, but never actually explored herself in that way before. One reason being she hardly ever had a private moment to do so, always being surrounded by other slaves and watchful eyes. The other reason was, she had a feeling that if people found out, they’d take her as someone willing to do _more._ And she did not want that.

Mari frowned. “And you’ve never had sex? Or…been penetrated?”

Rey shook her head. “No, _never._ I promise, I’m clean.”

The woman scoffed. “Sex doesn’t make you dirty, Girl.”

“It does where I come from,” Rey mumbled.   
  
Mari’s amusement disappeared, and she made a somber face.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “I’ll let them know they’ll need a smaller speculum, so it’s not too uncomfortable. Come on, let’s go.” She stood, motioning for Rey to do the same. 

Rey waited nervously by the chair as Mari called the medics back in. She was feeling lightheaded again, her chest aching a bit from her pounding heart, but she did not want to faint. They would probably go through with it even if she did, and she knew that as much as she didn’t want to do this, she didn’t want to be asleep for it either. 

Another droid wheeled in after them, and once the door was shut Captain Ithowim began changing out parts on its robotic limbs. Rey swallowed, eyes wide. 

Mari peered over his shoulder. “Is that a small one?”

He turned to give her a bland look. “You too? You really believe her? You didn’t see what she looked like when she came in.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said under her breath. “But she’s adamant. And yes, I believe her. I really don’t think he did anything.”

Captain Ithowim sighed through his nose, then told the droid to get a smaller one. Whatever that was. 

Mari looked at Rey encouragingly, taking the blanket from where it sat and unfolding it.

“C’mon,” she prodded quietly. “I’ll hold this up while you undress and get seated.”

Rey didn’t deserve that kind of preservation of her dignity. She didn’t deserve to have anyone be kind to her at all about this. She should have been slapped and told to just get it done. She should have been restrained right from her first bout of resistance. 

She needed to approach this like the vaccines. _Just get it done. You’ve been through worse. Lord Ren told you to do it. Just get it done._

She really hoped her master would appreciate her obedience, but more likely than not he’d punish her later for making things so difficult for everyone. The thought almost made her want to cry. She’d been doing so well. Why did she have to be such a bad slave in this place?

Pushing out all thoughts and feelings, imagining she was back on Jakku about to step onto an auction block, Rey dropped her pants and underwear and obediently climbed into the chair, placing her calves onto the stirrups. The seat was almost like a toilet, with a great space between her thighs. Mari laid the blanket over her lap, and then suddenly the chair began to move, leaning backwards, the stirrups splitting apart, exposing her female parts to the cold air. 

Rey looked at Mari with wide eyes, but the officer only gave her a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s normal,” she said quietly. 

Rey nodded shakily, her heart pounding, hands grasping the blanket in a grip so hard her knuckles ached.

She could do this. She already braved the vaccines. How much worse could this be?

Captain Ithowim had put on a mask over his nose and mouth, which slightly muffled his speech as he came to stand at her other side, opposite of Mari. Sergeant Wolson had donned a mask as well, but stood off by the wall.

“The droid will do most of the work,” the older medic explained, “but I’ll be here to observe and direct it. First it will insert a device that will scan you for any abnormalities. Then it will use a speculum to open you up for a visual check, and to take swabs of your vaginal walls for tests. This is routine; we do it for everyone.”

“It’s true,” Mari supplied. “I’ve had it done at least once a year since I turned seventeen.”

The captain beckoned the droid forward. “Try not to move or squirm, especially during the scan. If it doesn’t get it right the first time, we’ll have to do it again.”

“Yessir,” Rey whispered. 

Mari held out her hand, and Rey looked at it only for a second before taking it. She learned to take kindness whenever she could. It was such a rare gift. 

(+)

“Deep breaths,” Captain Ithowim coached from where he observed beside the droid. “And try to stay relaxed.”

<you will feel a pressure> the droid told her. <commencing scanner insertion in three, two, one—>

Rey wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the cold thing pressing into her most private place was nothing she’d ever felt before. There was indeed a pressure as the scanner wand pressed in, but also no small amount of discomfort from muscles and flesh stretching in a way they had never needed to up til now. 

Rey cut off a small noise of fear, of pain, her free hand pressing over her mouth. She flinched, unconsciously trying to get away, somehow feeling herself clamp painfully around the device as if to keep it from going further, as if to push it out.

“Relax, Girl,” the captain repeated. 

“I know it’s uncomfortable,” Mari quietly said, “but it’ll be worse if you don’t.”

Rey had no idea how to relax that part of her. She had no idea she could make it _not_ relaxed. But she tried, breathing, to release the tension. The wand pressed in further and she winced, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would shut it all out. Her body felt warm, but in an uncomfortable feverish way. She found it hard to breathe, but tried to keep deep breaths coming in through her nose, not wanting to faint, not wanting to embarrass herself in such a way.   
  
<scanning> the droid droned, and she held as still as possible, not wanting to mess it up and have to prolong this terrible thing, but then just a moment later, <scanning complete> and it retreated. 

Rey dropped her hand from her mouth and panted, squeezing Mari’s palm, now clammy from her sweat and she wanted to apologize but she just couldn’t even think. She trembled, trying to breathe, trying to process the awful, foreign feeling she’d just experienced. 

<you will feel a pressure> the droid said again, and Rey braced herself, pressing her lips together, determined to get through this without making a scene. <commencing speculum insertion in three, two, one—>

This time she was a little more prepared for the entering, but then she heard a clicking sound at the same time the pressure increased to almost unbearable levels, and her whole body seized. 

She whined, trying not to squirm, but it was almost painful how strained she felt between her legs and she just, she just needed it to _go away_ , just needed it to _stop._ Her face felt hot, like she’d been exposed to the sun, her lungs frozen in her chest from the shock, and she gasped for breath. 

“Relax, Girl,” Mari soothed, gripping her hand in both of her own now. “Try to breathe through it.”

“I—I can’t.” Rey gasped, “I can’t—“ 

Tears welled over, dripping down the sides of her face. 

<taking swab>

She flinched from the dull, burning pain within her womb, choking off another whine because she didn’t want to be so weak, she wanted to be strong, she needed to be stronger. 

“You’re doing so well,” Mari cooed. “It’s almost over.”

It did not feel like it was almost over. It felt like it would last too long. Like it would last forever.

She needed it to _get out._

Her mind was becoming fuzzy, she distantly heard the other droid beep a warning about her heart rate and wondered if this was the thing that would kill her in the end. 

And to make matters worse, she could feel the dark thing—the Force— bubbling up from within her, threatening to burst out again, and she desperately tried to keep it down, to keep it in, because Lord Ren would tear her apart if she exposed her powers and she’d never forgive herself for hurting anyone again, but then there was a clicking noise and the pressure released, and then the thing was gone, out of her, leaving behind only a cold, achey feeling.

<complete>

(-)

“All done,” the Captain said, nodding to Sergeant Wolson who received the droid and plugged its adapter cord into the computer console. 

The chair moved back, the stirrups closing, and Rey sat for a moment, panting, shaking, still gripping Mari’s hand, finding some small relief in sensing the Force settling down within her. 

The older medic handed Rey a couple flimsiwipes, telling her to clean herself and get dressed, to which she silently nodded, feeling so fuzzy, so shaky, so numb. 

After wiping herself of whatever cold lubricant they’d used, Rey was helped down from the chair, not even caring when the blanket fell. They’d already gotten a full view of a place even Rey had never looked. She had no dignity left to lose.

But Mari still stooped down quickly to pick up the blanket and hold it up, shielding her so she could put her underwear and pants back on with trembling hands and limbs. Once dressed, she was led back out, back to her room, Mari praising her with a hushed voice, patting her gripped hand. 

She crawled back onto the bed, let her various ports be reconnected to their lines by a quiet Sergeant Wolson, silently accepted the oxygen mask back around her head. 

The captain entered, stopping by the bed. 

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” 

Rey shook her head no, not willing to argue. Not willing to fight the lie. 

“Here’s more broth,” he said, leaving a cup on the beside table. “Drink it slowly. Try not to sleep too much so you can sleep tonight.”

Rey nodded tiredly.

He turned to Mari.

“You are dismissed, Officer Vines.”

She looked at Rey, then back at the captain, her face turning stoic and professional in less than a heartbeat. She gave a curt nod, back ramrod straight.

“Yessir.” 

And then with one last look at the poor slave girl, Mari left.

Captain Ithowim watched her go and then turned back. 

“You did well for having been so resistant before,” the medic told her as he looked over her vitals screen. “I’ll make sure to give Lord Ren a good report.”

Rey closed her eyes, fighting tears again. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to cry this time. She couldn’t tell if it was sadness, hopelessness, relief, or just exhaustion. 

“Thank you, sir,” she remembered to say, her voice small and hoarse. 

“I’ll check back later,” he said, and then left.

Rey lay in her bed, a dull ache between her legs, breathing, just trying to listen to her breaths, trying to pull herself into her mind, away from all the things that happened, away from all the sensations and discomfort. 

But she couldn’t help remembering how Lord Tomaxx had torn into her mind, and she couldn’t help imagining how horrible it would have been if they’d restrained her for the exam, the memories and imaginings converging together into the worst possible thing she thought a woman could ever experience.

_See? It could have been worse_ , she told herself.

A few moments later Rey turned onto her side, staring at the wall as silent tears streamed from her eyes. _It could have been worse._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> synopsis: ** Rey has her first ever pelvic exam, which is scary and traumatizing. Technically everything goes fine from the medical POV, but she's never had anything inside of her vagina before so there is _a lot_ of discomfort (and let's be real, even those of us who have had them before experience horrible discomfort during pelvic exams). She almost loses control of her powers, but manages to keep them in. **
> 
> PHEW
> 
> Well.
> 
> I bet you guys didn't expect to ever read something like this ever in your lives 😂😂😂  
> BUT, I didn't do it just for kicks. Something I've always wanted from the beginning with this fic is to have a slave-au story that avoids the rape backstory trope. It's not that I look down upon it, I just personally wanted to try something a bit different here.  
> As with Tomaxx's invasion of Rey's mind, I wanted the violation of the pelvic exam to be more or less devoid of any maliciousness or cruelty. She needed to get it done, it's a requirement for all females (in the First Order and in real life). But that doesn't mean she (or any of us, really) doesn't feel traumatized by it.  
> Tomaxx needed to get into her mind to figure out wtf happened between Kylo and Cseenan. He wasn't doing it to be cruel. It just needed to get done. But Rey was traumatized by it. (And there will be repercussions.)  
> And so, we have trauma without the usual rape trope 👍  
> ✨ ~this has been your friendly Author Commentary PSA~ ✨
> 
> Yeah so this past week has been kindof super exhausting. So much so that I've been having crazy heart palpitations, and so I decided to go to the hospital yesterday. Fun fact: The heart impulse test that Rey got is called an EKG (electrocardiograph) test, and it goes exactly the way I described it. I had one done, they didn't find anything off, so now I've got one strapped to my chest for 24 hours to monitor it for longer. Fingers crossed it's only stress and not some sort of heart defect 🤞
> 
> OKAY.  
> Anything pop out to y'all in this chapter? It's kindof huge (it's almost 8000 words! The longest chapter so far), so I understand if you can't remember everything. I do recommend rereading things. I have many crumbs and things sprinkled throughout the chapters that point to things to come 👀
> 
> Some highlights:  
> -we finally learn the names of the two medical officers in charge  
> -Rey finally learned Lord Ren's full name is Kylo Ren (lmao guys, 38 chapters in 😂😂😂 #slowestslowburntoeverslowburn)  
> -Officer Mari Vines is introduced to Rey (I wanted to say that I imagine Mari Vines as a woman with Desi features, specifically with actress Kiran Sonia Sawar somewhat in mind)
> 
> anything else? 🧐
> 
> Unfortunately, with how insane things have been, I haven't finished the next chapter yet 😰😰😰 It is 80% done though. I will definitely have it done by next **Wednesday, June 17th, 9PM Japan time**. But the only thing I can probably say about it is Kylo and Rey deal with some fallout from the exam, because there's also a very real possibility I might rewrite the whole thing so the click-bait synopsis I usually write is kindof up in the air right now 😬😬😬😬 I'm sorrryyyy 😭😭  
> I can 1000% promise that I'm not dropping this story. It's the only thing keeping me going anymore. I promise I'm just swamped with work 😭😭😭


	39. The Wind and the Dune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo get's Girl's results for the physical, and Rey is barely holding herself together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this chapter :D Thanks to everyone who commented last chapter!! ❤️❤️❤️ You gaiz give me life ❤️❤️
> 
> This chapter is another super long one, so enjoy! 😁✨❤️

* * *

Kylo finished making the final note on his report of Phu, took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He carded his fingers through his hair as he sat back, surveying the datapads and holos before him. He had an idea about where they could look for information about the Resistance base, but he had a feeling that the base itself was not on the planet. 

They would do groundwork to confirm it, of course. But with the clearing of the haze of pain and darkness from his mind, he has finally been able to focus his senses on what the Force has been trying to tell him. The base is probably not on Phu, but something else might be. Hopefully by the time they were headed there, the Knights of Ren would be a whole team again and they’d be able to canvass it successfully. 

Kylo felt like things were so close to being back to the way they’d been, before the confrontation in the corridor split them at the seams and before Girl had almost died. That she was out of the tank now and on the mend was a relief, almost as much as the relief from finally beginning to establish some small form of expectations between them— She was trying not to lie about her condition, and he was trying to look after her better. It was a small step, but anything was better than the constant flailing from before.

There would be missteps of course. She’d already gone against his command to not cause problems by her noncompliance with the medics earlier, and although a small part of him understood why she had been defiant, the rest of him felt an extreme lack of patience towards it. 

Life was _hard._ Life was full of uncomfortable and mostly painful experiences. If she wasn’t already used to that from her time on Jakku, she was definitely going to have to get used to it under his ownership now. 

He knew that Girl had not enjoyed the exam. While he had tried to block her out of his mind to work unimpeded, her fear and discomfort had been like a biting insect on the edge of his senses. In fact, it was uncanny how she was still able to wheedle past his mental defenses. He would evidently need to work on that where she was concerned; Her loudness in the Force was becoming _very_ bothersome. 

But it was a necessary procedure, not only for her health, but for the sake of finally putting an end to the rumors. It would finally, finally be the end of them. It would prove that she was a virgin, that he had not touched her. 

Maybe he was being too vocal with his protestations, and it was making him seem more guilty than if he’d stayed silent. But in this thing he would not take silent credit. He would not be known as a rapist.

Kylo took in a deep breath, shutting his eyes, and let it out slowly through his nose. _Such a tedious thing._

He briefly thought about punishing Girl for causing a scene and interrupting his work, but the exam had probably been punishment enough. 

Maybe. 

He would decide later.

After organizing his research he sat mindlessly consuming his meal, flicking through the holonet for news or whispers. Then having finished his food and found nothing of interest, he slipped on his mask and headed back down to the medbay.

The lead medic found him as he walked in, greeting with a curt, “Lord Ren,” before directing him to a small office where a litany of holoscreens and projections were set up showing what appeared to be Girl’s vitals.

“The exam went well,” the medic began. “With officer Vines’ assistance, the slave cooperated and there were no further problems. Apologies again for needing to call you.”

“It’s fine, doctor,” Kylo droned, crossing his arms. “She’ll learn to be better behaved without my intervention soon enough.”

The doctor nodded, picking up his datapad. “Yes, well, you’ll be able to mould her more to your liking once she’s deemed healthy enough to be discharged. Would you like me to go over the results of her physical with you?”

“Yes.”

He tapped through, and the holoscreens shifted. 

“She’s still very malnourished but with our refeeding plan that I explained earlier, she will make a recovery. The bacta helped heal a great deal of the damage her body sustained, both by the starvation and by her living conditions on Jakku. But she’s twenty pounds underweight, and her musculature will need time and sustenance to build back up to healthy form. 

“Her eyesight is perfect, hearing is normal, no mouth diseases or tooth decay. Decent reflexes and flexibility. Her blood and urinalysis both came back with no abnormalities outside what we would expect for someone in her condition. Her electrocardiograph results showed her heart is still having issues with arrhythmia, and her pulmonary function test showed some issues with her breathing. But in time they will go away. For now she’ll be mostly on bed rest until we start doing physical therapy.”

Kylo looked over all of the data shown, making sure to leave nothing unseen.

“Good. Is the six-week timeline still on schedule?” He asked.

“Yes, milord. We can hope for a quicker recovery, but six weeks would be the safest.”

Hm. That was somewhat disappointing. 

“Very well. If there’s nothing glaringly wrong—” Kylo started to turn away.

“Ah, one last thing, milord,” the medic added. “The results of her pelvic exam.” 

Kylo stilled, keeping himself collected enough to steadily ask, 

“What of it?”

The holo shifted, showing all manner of tests and pH levels and cultures that he eyed with vague disinterest. But then an image opened on another screen of what appeared to be a 3D rendering of her womb, and he stiffly and faux-nonchalantly looked away, focusing entirely on the medical officer as he spoke. 

“She’s clean for any sexually transmitted diseases, and no abnormalities or growths were found in the scan. A bit surprising, really, considering where she’s from.”

Kylo’s shoulders tightened. “What do you mean?”

The medic gave him a pointed look. “Well, she’s a young, reasonably attractive slave girl. I’m just wondering what exactly she did on Jakku if she wasn’t in a brothel.”

“Not all slave girls are destined to be used for sex, doctor,” He argued gruffly. “She was a mechanic.” _And a scavenger._

“Hm,” the doctor hummed, seeming unconvinced. “Is that why you brought her here? To be your _personal mechanic?”_

Kylo uncrossed his arms tensely, feeling his defenses rising. 

“She proved herself to be useful to my cause,” he said elusively. “I do not feel the need to further explain my reasons to people who have no understanding nor relevance to that end.” 

The medic nodded demurely, although it felt mocking. 

“Of course.” 

Kylo’s gloves creaked from his fists.

“And I hope this is enough to silence anymore debate on matters pertaining to her purpose aboard this ship,” he growled.

“Yes, milord. Should incorrect information pass by, it will be corrected.”

_“Good._ I have no more patience for the kind of discourse that has been infecting the crew. My tolerance for such disrespect has run out.”

The medic appeared acquiescent, but gruffly so. 

“Duly noted, milord.” 

“I want to speak with my slave now. Is there anything else of importance I should know?”

The medic pursed his lips, looking away briefly. 

“No, milord.”

Kylo left the office then, heading to Girl’s room. When he walked in he stopped in his now-usual spot just inside the door, some distance from the bed. 

She was curled on her side, her back to him, the only movement the rise and fall of her torso as she breathed. Sadness with a tinge of panic and pain radiated from her like a heater.

“I know you’re awake,” he told her. 

She didn’t move, as if she was going to keep pretending to sleep. The heart monitor betrayed her though. 

“Girl,” he said, a warning beneath his tone.

After a heavy pause she pushed herself up, her mask hanging from her neck again, face turned away so only the profile of her cheek was visible.

It felt like a small defiance, and it made him tense.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, with a small tremble, her head turned, red-rimmed eyes cast down, rising only to fix on his chest. She almost looked as gaunt as she had the day she went into the tank. Gaunt and lost, like an orphan child. Kylo was reminded again, as he had been when she’d begged him to stop the test, that she was practically exactly that—a child.

“The medic says you did well with the exam,” he ventured.

Girl gave the barest of nods. 

“Did Officer Vines help in that regard?”

She gave a more fervent nod. 

He was loathe to punish the slave in such a weak state, but the exam was compulsory and if she’d resisted again he would have had to make an example of her. He had battled with himself over calling for the officer, because he did not like involving outsiders with his personal matters. But it seemed that the woman had turned out to be a good idea after all if she’d assisted in keeping Girl from ruining the exam.

“Good. How are you feeling?” He asked, although he already knew just by looking at Girl that she was not very well. 

“I’m fine,” she rasped. Her eyes were bloodshot as they finally rose to meet his visor. They were hollow, begging, fearful as she insisted, “I’m _fine.”_

It was a lie, and he did _not_ like lies, but he would not push her to tell him how she really was. He could feel her churning emotions. She was desperately trying to keep them down, her hands fisting the blanket as if that alone would hold them back, and he decided he would respect her want to do so. _This time._

“Hm. If you say so,” he murmured. 

She looked back down, releasing a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry I made them call you, Sir. I…I’ll be better next time. I just…I’ve never…” Her face turned red, shame clouding the air. “…I’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t be a burden.” She swallowed, taking in a couple deep breaths, and then nodded to herself. “It could have been worse.”

But apparently that was too close to saying the exam had been bad, too close to telling the truth. Because immediately after saying it, her face broke and she tucked her chin down to hide again, taking in a ragged breath to cover the sob that escaped her. She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head, angrily wiping her face.   
  
“I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I’m not weak, Sir,” she insisted, hastily wiping the tears from her face. “I’m _not.”_

Kylo had to keep himself from flinching at hearing the words that reverberated throughout his own mind on a near-daily basis. _I’m not weak_. Did he sound as in denial? 

He didn’t know what to do. A part of him wanted to just leave and come back when she was more stable. This crying was a nuisance, and he wondered if she was prone to crying often and if this was going to be a regular occurrence. That was going to get very old, very fast. 

But he would not run away. He had committed himself to being her master, to not leaving her alone when she needed attention. Kylo was not about to soothe Girl’s anguish, but he was not going to flee from it either. He would not be such a coward.

But before he could decide what to do, she was shaking her head again, reaching for her datapad, her emotions dying down somewhat as her mind worked to suppress them.

“U-um,” she choked out, then cleared her throat wetly. “I h-have some questions, Sir. About the Way of Ren. More questions.” 

She sniffled, wiped her cheek on her shoulder, her brow furrowed as she tapped about the screen.

Her pivot to this safer topic was appreciated. He did not want to suffer this awkwardness anymore. 

“And what questions would those be?” He asked, taking a small step forward and crossing his arms. 

She cleared her throat again, looking up with as stoic a face as one could muster with tears still shining on one’s flushed cheeks. 

“Who is your Dead Self?”

Kylo kept himself still, the split second after first hearing her question making him want to snarl at her _‘it’s none of your fucking business, slave,’_ before he realized a second later that she meant _generally._

He took in a breath to steady himself and release some of the sudden tension in his neck. 

She must have sensed his sudden spike of temper, because she looked back down quickly, finger following as she said, 

“It says _‘A Knight always strives to be better educated than his Dead Self.’_ I was just wondering what it meant, Sir. That’s all. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

She flinched when Kylo cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“It’s fine,” he snapped. He took another deep breath, mentally shoving down that other name, that other person, to the deep recesses of his mind. “I told you it was fine to ask questions,” he pointed out, _again._ “Stop apologizing for doing what I told you to do.”

“Sor—“ Girl ducked her head, lips smashed into a thin line. She made a self-reprimanding wince, and then nodded.

Kylo waited a beat before continuing.

“Our Dead Self is who we were before taking the oath to be a Knight of Ren,” he explained. “It’s not quite a literal death. We ritualistically kill ourselves, kill our past, and in the process we destroy the things holding us back from becoming the dedicated Knights we are meant to be.”

Her eyes searched the blanket as she thought for a moment. Would she ask who he had been before? He would have to punish her for it if she did. They did _not_ talk about their Dead Selves.

“How?” She asked hoarsely instead, eyes lifting. “How do you kill your past?”

_Through pain and near-death_ , he wanted to tell her. Snoke tested their strength by forcing them to withstand trials of what could basically be called torture. But Kylo knew it was more than that. 

Snoke stripped them of their weaknesses. He laid them bare. He tempered them like durasteel, throwing them in the proverbial fire over and over again to push them to the brink of shattering, only to bring them back, so much stronger than they’d ever been before. They came out a bludgeoning tool, and then training sharpened them to a deadly knife-edge point.

And on top of that, they were made to cut themselves off from everything that kept them chained to sources of weakness. Kylo had yet to fully fulfill his death, but once Skywalker was dead he would be one step closer to truly becoming unmoored. 

Girl would be there for it. She would see what it looked like to destroy one’s past. She would see him become a truly powerful master. 

“Perhaps you will find out some day,” he pondered aloud instead. 

* * *

~~~OOO~~~

* * *

Rey shivered. 

His words sounded like a threat as much as a promise. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out how they did it, and yet a part of her did want to know. She felt weighed down by her life, so the prospect of being freed from it, of becoming someone else, was incredibly tempting.

But she was a slave. And she would always be a slave. That Lord Ren was dangling this possibility before her like food to a starving child was cruel of him. She felt her heart twist in her chest, her stomach unsettled as echoes of Vins taunting her threatened to ooze up from the edges of her mind. 

_“You want this, you little sand shit? You want some water? Gonna have to—“_

_No,_ thought Rey, looking down quickly. _I will not think of her. I will not remember those things. Not now._

She was already trying so hard to keep herself from crying, her body still feeling so foreign and unsettled and _wrong._ She would not give her master more evidence that she was unworthy of being here.

So Rey nodded, unconvinced that she would ever be truly one of his Knights, but willing to pretend like she believed him. 

She opened her mouth to ask another question about what it meant specifically by ‘indulgence’ in _“A Knight does not consume things that tarnish the body—no drug, stimulant, intoxicant, or indulgence,”_ when Sergeant Wolson appeared in the doorway. 

His gaze was strained as he took in Lord Ren’s presence, but it softened when it focused on her. Rey looked away, upset and embarrassed and still feeling betrayed by him for his part in the pelvic exam—no matter how minor it had been.

“Am I interrupting?” He asked. “I can come back later. I’m just delivering this,” he held up a cup.

Lord Ren looked at him for a tense moment and then wordlessly stepped out of the way, gesturing for him to continue into the room. 

The medic entered, greeting her master with a nod before coming to her bedside. He looked at the still-full cup of broth on the side table with a frown, and handed her the new one.

“It’s juice this time,” he told her quietly as she peered at the reddish liquid. “Let me know if it’s too sweet and I’ll water it down.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, knowing she’d rather choke it down than ask for his help. She would not be calling him for anything anymore if she could help it. Not while his presence made her feel so ill.  
  
“How’s your face?” He asked, his gloved fingertips lightly touched her cheeks, prompting her to turn her head this way and that. It made her skin crawl.

“Still hurting?”

“No, sir,” she said, eyes focused on his breast pocket.

He gave a pointed look to the hanging mask that she did not miss.

Rey swallowed. 

“I took off the mask because it was uncomfortable to lay on my side with it,” she lied. She could see Lord Ren’s head tilt, and her skin prickled. In reality she took it off because her crying had been making a mess of it.

“I see.” The sergeant peered at her eyes, frowning. “Your eyes are a bit red. Are they itchy?”

She leaned back and looked down, embarrassed and slightly nauseated, the movement forcing him to drop his hands.

“No, I…they’re fine. I think I’m just tired.”

When she glanced up he was looking at her unconvinced, knowing, and almost _sad,_ but seemed acutely aware of the dark Lord observing behind him, so only nodded.

“Drink a bit of the juice and get some rest then.”

“Yessir.”

The young medic turned to address her master, his expression stony.

“Lord Ren—“

“If you are about to try and tell me to leave,” Lord Ren hissed, his voice crackling, “I would advise you to reconsider.”

“She needs rest, milord.”

“And I need to speak to my slave,” he returned snidely. “Or must I ask permission to do so? I was unaware ownership of her had changed.”

The sergeant shook his head, lowering it in concession. 

“Not at all, milord. But as one of the medics in charge of her care, I am telling you that even slaves need rest.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lord Ren snapped. Rey shivered, her heart pounding. The air was getting cold again. Cold and _dark._  
  
“No, milord, I think you’re very aware of it,” the sergeant contested, “but are choosing to ignore her needs anyways. I must insist that you leave.”

Lord Ren’s arm rose, his bare hand more threatening to Rey than anything, even more deadly than his lightsaber.

His voice was icy durasteel, the threat imminent. “Your superior needed a reminder of who I am on this ship. Am I going to have to make an example out of you too?”  
  
“N-n—!” Rey couldn’t help the small noise of protestation that escaped her, and she slapped her free hand over her mouth, trembling as Lord Ren’s head turned towards her. 

It was a freezing moment of terror for her before his arm moved to point at the door. He looked back at the sergeant.

“Get. Out,” he ordered, his voice crackling. 

The young medic stood stiffly for a breath, and then nodded with a low, “Yessir,” and left. The door shut behind him.

Rey was both glad he was gone, and afraid to be secluded with her master. He was angry, and she had spoken out of turn—even if it had been small. She was going to be punished. He was going to turn his Force powers on her instead. 

Shaking, she reached to place her cup down on the side table so it wouldn’t spill all over the bed from whatever he decided to do to her, a tremulous apology already on her lips, but her trembling caused the cup to hit the table awkwardly, and Rey watched with dawning horror as, almost in slow-motion, the cup tipped, falling over the side, the reddish liquid spilling out like watery blood onto the gleaming durasteel floor. 

Immediately Rey cried out, years and years of habitual urgency igniting within her. Liquid had spilled. It needed to be caught, it needed to be soaked up in cloth before it disappeared, evaporating into the heat and dryness of the Jakku desert.

She lunged, flinging off the oxygen mask, uncaring of the lines that snagged and pulled out of her arms painfully, none of it mattered because _life-giving liquid had spilled,_ and she was the only one there to save it. 

Rey all but fell off the bed, dragging her blanket with her, mopping up the juice with precision and terror, the image of water spilled on cracked ground, on burning sand, as she begged for just a sip to wet her bleeding lips, filled her mind. 

_“You want this, you little sand shit? You want some water? You’re gonna have to dig for it, then. Go on, dig like the little sand parasite you are—”_

But also from just an accident, just a mistake, she didn’t mean to drop the flask _master I didn’t mean to I’m so sorry, “Oh, quick, Rey, grab the oil cloth! Get as much as you can into it, we’ll wring it out later—“_ , and,

_“Gah! What’re you waiting for, stupid girl, grab the evap-kit! Go! You’re less helpful than a kriffing droid—”_

And then suddenly there were two large black hands grabbing her wrists, halting her. She fought back, because, “W-we have to catch it, we have to soak it up, it’s, it’s going to, we—“ 

“I said STOP,” her master’s booming, crackling voice barked, cutting through the terrorized fog in her mind, and all of a sudden her vision cleared of the sand and dry earth and heat of Jakku, and she realized she was on the floor of a cold durasteel ship in space, her back pressed painfully against the front of the cabinet doors of the side table, Lord Ren’s large black frame looming over her even crouched on the floor as he was, her wrists captured in his unbreakable grip. 

Her eyes found his visor, her breath labored, her chest aching. She gulped down air, trying to calm herself, trying to keep this weakness from happening. But she was weak. She was _so_ weak.

His voice was slash of anger against her fragile heart as he scolded her, his words punctuated with small shakes of her arms, 

“When I tell you to do something, when I tell you to stop, you _stop,_ understand?” 

Rey winced, shaking and nodding, unable to speak because if she opened her mouth she was going to confess, she was going to prove how weak she was. Her mind felt like a swirling confusion of so many conflicting emotions, so many bad thoughts. 

_Why did you freak out about spilled juice, you’re not on Jakku, stupid. Why can’t you be smarter. Why can’t you be stronger. It was just a quick exam, stop letting it bother you. Just get over it, Rey. Your master is angry. See what you did? Stupid, worthless, slave._

Lord Ren leaned forward slightly, his voice dark and accusatory.

“You told me once that you aren’t disobedient, you _begged me_ ,” he jostled her again, “to give you a way to serve me. Listening to my commands and doing them without a fuss and without _blatantly ignoring_ me is what that service is now until I’m able to include things outside of this medbay.” He was silent, breathing through his wrath, his invisible gaze making Rey’s face color. 

“Look at yourself,” he sneered with a crackle of sound. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Rey looked down at her hands, discolored and sticky now from the spilled drink. They were faintly red, as if covered in blood she’d never be able to truly wash away. As she looked at them she felt rock beneath her, heard distant screams, felt the droid push into her, saw Mari blasted against the wall, skull caved in, and Rey tried to shut the distorted thoughts out, push them back down, far, _far_ down. 

_I am weak_ , she thought. _I am a danger._ And Rey’s silence cracked.  
  
“I almost lost control,” she whispered, “During the exam.” Tears blurred her vision, her voice thick with too much emotion. “It was awful, and I was scared and I could feel the Force shaking within me, trying to come out. I-I don’t know how, but I kept it down. I kept it down.”

Lord Ren seemed to stiffen, his hulking body like a stone. And then his grip on her wrists loosened a fraction, but did not release.

“You know what triggers it, you know what it is now,” he told her. “Things with names are easier to control.”

Rey let out a ragged breath, eyes closing, tears dripping. 

“What if I can’t next time?” She felt anguish bubble up to twist her face. “What if I hurt someone?”

Her powers felt far, far more powerful now than they did before. And it felt much closer to the surface of her skin than ever. It was _terrifying._ Lord Ren had told her that it was triggered by her fear, and that to control it she would need to control her fear, but fear was almost all she knew. It defined her life. 

She took in a shuddering breath, shifting slightly so that her bare foot wasn’t touching Lord Ren’s giant black boot anymore. _Maker,_ had she kicked at him before? 

His grip on her wrists tightened, as if in warning, and she stilled. His hands were so strong; she could feel the power in them, knew they could snap her bones easily if he wanted. Lord Cseenan’s voice filtered up from the murky memories of before, _“…how easy can the pet’s bones snap?”_ And Rey shuddered, tried to shake the memory and the rising anxiety away. 

“The Force has awakened within you,” Lord Ren pointed out, bringing her from her thoughts. “Which now carries with it a much higher risk that you could lose control in a way that causes damage. Not only that, but your thoughts reverberate out like an unsecured transmission, and the Force is affected by that. With your mind so open, you are more likely to trigger the Force with your emotions, which will in turn exacerbate your emotions, which influence the Force, and so on. Like an echo chamber, getting louder and louder.”

Rey listened intently, foreboding rising within her from what sounded like a hopeless situation. She had no control over her fear, and her powers were ‘awakened’ now, which meant she was probably going to accidentally use the Force someday in an even more powerful display than she has before. Remembering ‘the incident’ and the destruction it had wrought _before_ her powers had truly ‘awakened’, made her realize just how much of a risk she was to everyone around her. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

“I don’t want it,” she whimpered, “I don’t want this power anymore. Take it away. Lord Ren, _please—”_

“Shh shh shh,” he hushed, “Quiet. You can’t get rid of it. It’s part of you, forever.”

Rey fought back more tears, looking down. _Forever._ Forever a danger. Forever hurting people.

Lord Ren was silently pensive for a moment, and then spoke. 

“I want you to do something for me now,” he told her, his voice a low rumble. “Are you listening?”

Her gaze immediately lifted to his visor, despondent but alert. She blinked more tears away, sniffling.

“Yessir.” 

“Close your eyes.”

Rey did as he said without hesitation. She could obey. She could be obedient. 

“Good,” he breathed, and Rey shivered. She didn’t know what he was going to do or what he was going to ask her to do, but maybe it would help her somehow, so she would do it without protest.

His electric voice remained quiet as he began to speak.

“I want you to breathe for me. Inhale for four seconds, hold for three seconds, and then let it out for five seconds. Focus only on your breathing; think of nothing else.”

She did, counting in her head, continuing at his low encouragement, “That’s it, keep going.”

At first she couldn’t stop her swirling thoughts, couldn’t focus. She tried to only think of her breathing but it was so hard, and she felt her anxiety rising. She didn’t want to disappoint her master. 

Lord Ren shifted in his crouch, drawing her attention to her wrists still trapped in his hands, and somehow she found herself able to focus on the pressure there instead with more ease. 

She breathed this way until she couldn’t tell how much time had passed, until it became so rhythmic she didn’t need to count anymore, and her mind settled into a strange aware-unawareness. She was no longer cognizant of the durasteel and hum of the ship around her. There was only her, and her master’s cold shadow, and a kind of pulsing, swirling energy around them.

It felt similar to the hypnotic serenity Rey used to feel at night when, after she would sometimes be woken by night terrors, Nybian would have her hum or sing along with the old master’s rhythmic melodies and chants to help calm her. As horrible as those horrifying hallucinations had been, being held in the old woman’s arms as they weaved music into the dry desert air had been treasured moments.

A sharp pang of homesickness and longing came up as Rey remembered those things that she’d tried so hard to forget, and it almost threw her focus. But she persisted with the meditation, kept breathing and concentrating on the buzzing vice around her wrists.

Because this felt _more._ It felt _deeper._ And she wanted to see where her master would lead her with it.

Lord Ren’s voice reached her, still quiet, lulling her further.

“Your mind is like an open plane right now, the ground spreading out endlessly in all directions.”   
  
Rey imagined she was on the flat-plains of Jakku, the dry, cracked ground a dusty white beneath her feet. On the horizon, far away, dark clouds loomed and flashed with silent lightning. Electricity fizzled in the air, making her skin tingle.

“Your thoughts are there with you,” Lord Ren continued, “and your emotions, scattered all around you. Can you see them?”  
  
She turned from the distant storm and imagined her thoughts and feelings floating about in the hot air, shimmering in the sun. 

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Gather them up.”

She imagined the thoughts and feelings flowing together, turning reddish brown as they piled up on the ground before her, higher and higher, spreading as the pile grew, so big. Did she really have so many thoughts?

Lord Ren echoed from afar, “What does it look like?”

She breathed steadily, her voice raspy in her trance-like state as she gazed at her creation.

“It looks like a sand dune.” 

The dull, dark red of it was a shock against the chalky white of everything else. 

“Very good.” He gave her wrists a small squeeze, and her skin tingled again in a wave from head to toe. “You know you have to protect that sand dune, you have to protect your thoughts and emotions. But the wind picks up sometimes, doesn’t it, and some of it is blown away. How do you keep the sand from blowing away? The wind is always there, and it gets stronger everyday. How do you stop it?”

She thought for only a moment, seeing it, seeing the wind throw the crest of the dune into a cloud of red, carrying it away, towards the storm. She needed to stop the wind. She needed to—

“Build a wall,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he whispered back in a hiss of static, and she knew he was pleased. 

“Now imagine putting down stones and bricks, all around yourself and the dune,” he told her, “layer by layer, brick by brick. Until there’s a great wall. Are you doing it?”

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she started to change the scene. There were no bricks, only sharp, thin stones. She imagined piling them in a great circle around the dune, but they were so thin that it was going to take forever to get high enough to be above the crest of the dune.

“I’m…I’m trying,” she whimpered.

“Shh, shh. That’s good. Keep going—“

A loud sound, not from her Mind and not from Lord Ren, pierced the veil of pulsing energy, making her flinch violently and gasp, eyes flying open. 

She was on a starship, in the medbay, in her room. The door was open, revealing a startled sergeant Wolson with a gruff Captain Ithowim just behind him.

“What—“ 

Lord Ren’s head snapped around, and Rey could feel him becoming stiff with sudden ice-cold indignation through his burning grip on her wrists. He loosened and pulled his hands away quickly after though, and Rey looked down, dazed, rubbing at the red marks left behind from the pressure, more gooseflesh prickling up her skin as she did.

The young medic finally collected himself enough to sternly ask, “What’s going on?”   
  
Head clearing enough to realize other people had appeared, Rey peered around Lord Ren’s crouching frame, feeling contrite through her dazedness.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Wolson, I spilled the juice and, and I…” She looked down at the soiled blanket, clutching at it with embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She had lost her mind over juice, _in front of Lord Ren_. This would never be forgotten.

Captain Ithowim pushed past the younger medical officer, grumbling, “Where’s your stormtrooper friend when you need him,” his expression gruff as he faced her master.

“Lord Ren,” he addressed sharply, “I realize you are eager to train her up, but she is too ill for your usual brand of punishments. She’s only been out of the tank for a _day.”_

Kylo stood stiffly, sneering, “Does this _look_ like my ‘usual brand of punishments’?”

“Well, no, I suppose she’s neither screaming nor bleeding,” the captain retorted, “but why is she in a mess on the floor?”

“She fell getting out of the bed.”

Rey spoke up, harried, not wanting another Force-choking argument to erupt. 

“I was just trying to clean it up, sir, and I…I got…very _upset.”_ She swallowed, looking down at her agitated arms. She was bleeding slightly from where an IV had been. “I pulled out my lines. Lord Ren was just calming me down.”  
  
Captain Ithowim gave a gruff put-upon sigh. “You know this means we have to restrain you again.”

“A better brand of punishment, I suppose,” Lord Ren drawled.

“She was warned _several_ times,” the older medic argued. 

Sergeant Wolson took steps forward to Rey. “We better get you cleaned up first though. You need a wash anyways.”

Rey flinched away from his reaching hands, accidentally finding her shoulder blade pressed against Lord Ren’s immoveable leg. He’d probably kick her away, but she couldn’t help leaning into the small security it lent her.

“I-I can do it myself,” she pleaded, an arm raised in defense. “I don’t need help washing.” 

The thought of Sergeant Wolson or Captain Ithowim being present for her bathing made her feel like she’d rather die. She’s never been one to push back against those in authority stripping her down, she had no personhood to claim to feel too much shame or indignity, but now….she couldn’t stomach it. She wouldn’t. 

The captain spoke up from the doorway, arms crossed. 

“Well that’s a given, but someone needs to supervise so you don’t collapse.”

He would just be standing there? Watching her the way he had for the pelvic exam? Rey shuddered, having trouble getting air, her lungs frozen in her chest, her heart thudding painfully.

“I won’t collapse,” she rasped. “I can do it myself.”

The captain shook his head. “Sergeant Wolson helped put you into the bacta suit and washed you when you came out. He’s a professional who’s job it is to keep you from becoming more ill. You don’t want to get worse, do you?”

Rey shook her head, swallowing down bile. 

“Isn’t there a droid that could do that?” Lord Ren asked, startling her somewhat. “Or a female medic?”

“Our female medic is posted on the night-cycle shift,” Sergeant Wolson explained. “She’s asleep now.”

He leaned down to grasp Rey’s arm, and she pulled back again with a whimper. Something brushed against the back of her head and she realized it was Lord Ren’s hand. Rey looked up, meeting the black of his visor looking back down at her, and felt embarrassment flood her system. 

She’d promised to be better. She’d told him she wasn’t weak, that she wouldn’t be a burden. And here she was, not too long after, already proving otherwise even more.

Rey lowered her head, concluding in a second’s worth of time that this was another thing she would not be able to avoid, that making a scene would just anger her master and make things worse, and that she would just have to shut off her mind like she used to when she was a child. 

Sergeant Wolson had stopped progressing towards her, probably too wary of getting that close to Lord Ren. She looked up at the medic, feeling defeated, accepting the inevitable, and then shakily reached for him. He closed the distance and took her arm in a gently firm grip.

“Come on, up you go,” he said, slightly strained as he helped lift her to her feet. She breathed, her head spinning.  
  
Lord Ren felt agitated. Rey wasn’t sure why she knew it, she just did. He was probably upset at her for trying to use him as a shield. For being a disobedient slave. She needed to be better. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled once her head cleared of the dizziness from standing. She looked at her master, and then down in shame. “I’ll be good, I promise.”  
  
“It’s not an _exam,”_ the captain droned. “It’s a quick wash. Your attitude right now is unwarranted.”

“Yessir, sorry,” she recited emotionlessly, already pushing her mind away, not wanting to give the feeling of dread she felt any leeway to grow, because she would break down and cry and fight if she did. She might even trigger the Force again, and that would be an absolute _disaster._

_I am nothing_ , she thought, repeating it in her head. _I am nothing and I feel nothing._

As the young medic began leading her away, Lord Ren spoke up.

“Girl,” he called, and she turned halfway to acknowledge him. He stood stiffly, his hand fidgeting tightly at his side. “We’ll finish our _conversation_ when you get back.” 

“Yessir,” Rey whispered, a small fissure lighting up within the dark tightness of her chest. 

She allowed herself to be carefully led away, hearing the captain direct a droid to finish cleaning up her mess, feeling her face heat up again from how ridiculous she’d been, how clumsy. She couldn’t do anything right. She wanted to be back on Jakku. 

The young medic took her out to the main area, then through another door that led to a shower room. He sat her down on a bench, kneeling to inspect her bleeding and reddened arms.

“That man is a monster,” he uttered under his breath, making Rey freeze. “You won’t—“ he cut himself off, lips pressed into a thin line. Rey’s discomfort grew again as he silently held her arms in his loose hands.

“I don’t know what he wants you for, but—.” He stopped speaking again, shaking his head, face tense.

“I’m here to serve him,” Rey argued, but her small voice made her sound unsure. 

Sergeant Wolson gave her a pitying look. 

“I know that. I’m just concerned with _how._ He and his two mongrels practice _in…very_ dark things.” He began undoing the ties of her top. Rey clenched her fists on her thighs, blocking out her mind as he continued speaking under his breath. “I hope I’m not making you healthy just to have you used in some sort of sacrificial ceremony.”

“I am nothing,” she whispered, eyes unfocused. “If that is what my purpose is, then so be it.” 

He paused, eyes searching her face, then his hands dropped. It was a heavy moment before he tapped her knee.

“I’ll let you get yourself undressed. When you’re ready I’ll show you how the shower works and then I’ll be back here waiting until you’re done. How’s that sound?”

Rey didn’t move, not wanting to nod, not wanting to seem like she thought she had a choice. Her wants didn’t matter. Accepting this kindness was, in a way, getting something she had no right to ask for. That he was checking for her opinion on the matter only made her anxiety rise. 

He must have taken her silence for assent, because he gave a small nod and, “Okay,” stood, and went to a holoscreen kiosk, tapping at it with his back halfway turned to her. She didn’t move for another minute, and then slowly began undressing.   
  
She wished Mari was there to shield her. 

Rey choked back a sob, a hand covering her mouth as she silently breathed through it. Why couldn’t she shut off like she used to? Why did her emotions and thoughts keep breaking through? She couldn’t let this happen anymore. She needed to be better. She needed, she needed—

The wind. The sand dune.

A sort of small peace washed over her. _That’s right,_ she remembered. _Lord Ren will help me build a wall, he’ll help me block it all in._ Once she couldn’t feel anything anymore—especially fear—she’d be better off. 

_Yes, okay,_ she nodded to herself, dropping her top and pushing down her pants. _I can get through this. I’m so close to finally feeling nothing again._  
  
_I’m so close to being strong._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HNNGGGG....they get _so close_ to having a Good Moment™️ and then Softy McDoctor and Gruff MedicMan have to barge in and ruin things. this is why we can't have nice things 
> 
> But at least Kylo is trying to be a better Master, sort of 👀
> 
> What did y'all think? 😁
> 
> I am finally getting ahead on my writing again (for now)!! 🤩🤩 🙌🙌 Hallelujiah 🙌🙌  
> Next chapter: Kylo gets a transmission call from Cseenan Ren, and Rey has a strange dream....  
> Posting date: Wednesday, June 24, 9PM Japan time


	40. Whispering Pill Bugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo gets an update from his Knights, and Rey has a strange dream....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vibrates in nervous excitement*

* * *

  
Kylo waited in Girl’s medroom, tense and irritated. He wanted to pace, but did not want to appear so agitated as to seem _worried,_ so he just stood stiffly with his arms crossed, scowling beneath his mask.

After admitting to almost losing control, Girl had been doing so well in following his guidance. She’d listened and obeyed intently as he’d tried to help her access her innermost consciousness and help her build up her mental defenses. She’d be less likely to lose control with them in place— which was frankly for the good of the ship as well as herself— and she’d be a bit quieter in the Force as well. Kylo looked forward to when she was not biting at the edges of his mind with her thoughts and feelings anymore.   
  
Even after struggling to quiet her mind at first, she’d found her focus and managed to slip into a meditative state easily enough that he wondered if she’d done it before. The Force had eased into a lulling pressure around them from her efforts, nearly sending him into a meditative trance himself.

It was the first time he’d ever seen her look truly peaceful, outside of the bacta tank. And at his guiding there on the floor, he’d felt her mind working, had sensed her getting a little closer as her loudness lowered slightly. He’d wished he could see into her mind, to witness the great sand dune she had built, but he was still wary of even brushing against it after her meltdown the day before. 

He’d been trying to keep as much distance as possible since then, physical and otherwise, but her hysterical fit about the juice had only ended when he’d grabbed her wrists to stop her. He’d kept hold of them after, first as a show of angry dominance—how dare she ignore him? _Him,_ her master?—but then he’d felt it again: The strange connection, buzzing to life beneath his gloved palms—a mere whisper of what he’d felt from her in the tank, but it was there. It was real.

At that point he’d not let go out of his own want to bask in his own validation.

But then they’d been _rudely_ interrupted, and he’d once again found himself in a situation that looked worse on his part than it was in reality. 

Kylo was used to being a source of fear, a source of derision and disgust. He accepted it (for the most part), embraced the dark reputation and the distance it usually granted him from others. Which is why when Girl had pressed against his leg like a child seeking safety, it had been such a discomfort as much as a small wonder. 

He’d thought it was a mindless accident on her part at first—why would she seek safety from someone who makes her flinch and tremble in fear?— but she’d pressed further as the young medic had approached, to the point of almost upsetting his balance. Her head had bumped against his hand by his thigh, his palm opening unconsciously to steady her, and then she’d looked up at him. 

Her face had belied that same lost-child expression, her eyes searching for his with a desperate sheen, but then something very fascinating happened. Her expression had shuttered, her openness closing like a door, and from one moment to the next, Kylo could sense her turmoil and then _…couldn't._

He thought she’d somehow managed to finish walling up her mind, fortifying it to prevent stray thoughts from blaring out through the Force. But her light had also dimmed down to almost nothing, and Kylo knew this was something different. 

She felt almost dead again. 

But she wasn’t. She’d stood, clearly alive, apologizing to him in a quiet, emotionless voice before being led away by the young medic to be bathed. Or, at least _supervised_ while bathing.

His unease about her Force presence somehow diminishing down to a spark aside, Kylo decidedly did _not_ like that. He wasn’t sure why or what was different from before, but he did not like the idea of another man seeing to the washing of his female slave. That she had been obviously uncomfortable with it was only a fraction of his issue. The two male medics performing the pelvic exam had also not been a problem because it was their job, and the exam was compulsory. But the bathing…

There should be a droid to supervise. 

Kylo berated himself for letting Girl’s emotions about it affect him. Because that was the only possible reason why he was feeling so against it. She’d wheedled her way into his mind again, planting seeds of doubt and suspicion. He would be very glad once she had her proper mental walls up. 

He’d told her they’d finish their ‘conversation’ when she got back, partly to meet that end, but also to show the medics he would not be supplanted. He would stay and continue his business with his slave, whether they thought it pertinent or not.

But first to deal with whatever the hell she was doing now. Once she was back from the shower, he would investigate why she was so closed off in the Force, and then continue helping her build up her mental block in a way that didn’t shut off her power. 

Ignoring the cleaner bot mulling about the room, Kylo picked up Girl’s datapad to scrutinize what all she’d been doing with it since yesterday. Evidently she’d been busy, had figured out how to add notations to the lists and had written little comments and questions. She was definitely a curious little thing. 

She’d also tried to pinpoint his rooms on the ship schematics, even though they were not labeled due to the clearance level limit. She’d tried to pin it near the crew bunks, which was laughably inaccurate and something he would be correcting immediately so she would not continue to think he was living anywhere _near_ those people. 

There were other places highlighted as well: medbay two, the commissary, the bridge, and the nearest escape pods. He would have to tell her that in the event they needed to get off the ship, unless they were blocked and absolutely _had_ to take a pod, she and his Knights would be leaving in his personal shuttle. 

She would also _not_ be eating in the commissary when she was discharged and on a solid food diet again. He’s not sure he’d be able to trust her to eat correctly for a while, so she would be eating near him until he knew she could do so alone. 

He made a mental note to take her up to the bridge as soon as she was able, both to familiarize her with the area and crew, and to show her just how massive his flagship was. She’d said she’d scavenged in the star destroyer ruins on Jakku, but those old Imperial ships were only half the length of the _Finalizer._

As Kylo tapped around the datapad, another medidroid appeared in the doorway, seeking him out with its photoreceptor eye. 

<Lord Ren, I am to inform you that there is a transmission waiting for you from Lord Cseenan Ren>

He paused, frowning, then nodded and left the datapad on the bed before walking out of the medbay to find a comms room down the corridor to close himself in for privacy. 

When Kylo pressed to answer the link, Cseenan Ren’s blue holo glitched to life on the small table, revealing him from the chest up. The Knight was masked, but visibly tense. 

_“Master,”_ he rasped in greeting, giving a rigid nod. 

“Cseenan Ren,” Kylo replied with a smaller nod. “Progress report.”

Csenan began speaking with all the guttural inflection of someone reciting a memorized speech. 

_“We have made contact with the shipjackers on Donadus and we are zeroing in on the droid’s whereabouts. The Resistance pilot and…that ship..disappeared, but we know he is nearby. We are remaining vigilant.”_

No doubt he was trying to resist being snarky, probably on the insistence of Tomaxx. Kylo took it as a small concession— a minuscule step in the right direction towards rectifying things.

“Good,” Kylo replied with another curt nod. “Where is Tomaxx now?”

_“He is gathering his thoughts,”_ the Knight replied, using their code for the mental intel work the Chiss performed. 

“I hope he is fruitful in that endeavor,” Kylo mused. 

_“He always is,”_ the Knight grumbled defensively.

Although things between himself and the apprentice were still strangled, at least Kylo could take comfort that the Barabel’s loyalty to Tomaxx was still in good form.

“Anything else?” He asked.

_“No, Master. We will comm as soon as we have the droid.”_

Kylo took in a deep breath, anticipation making his heart pound. It was no longer a matter of ‘If’ they would find it, it was now a matter of ‘when.’

“Soon, Cseenan Ren,” he said, “soon we will be on the hunt for Skywalker’s blood. And this time I won’t stop you from using tooth and claw.”

Cseenan was silent again for a moment, and then nodded. 

_“Yes, Master. We will not fail.”_

“Good.”

The transmission cut off, and Kylo took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. _Soon._

The anticipation was enough to almost make him board his shuttle and take off after his Knights, just so he could be there when they found the map piece, just so he could be the first one to finally hold it in his hands, and know without a doubt that they were on the right path at last. The path to freeing the galaxy of the last scourge of the Jedi. The path to freeing him of another piece of his past. 

He was _so close_.

Filled with a renewed sense of purpose and bolstered pride in his Knights, Kylo went back to the medbay intent on finishing what he had started with Girl. But upon entering her room he was met with a sleeping slave, her wrists restrained once again by the cuffs.

The young medic turned from where he was checking one of the vitals screens. 

“She’s asleep,” he murmured, stating the obvious. “She had quite a day, so it’s best to let her rest, milord.”

Kylo wanted to tell the medic he didn’t care what kind of day she had, they had things to _discuss_ of great importance still, so wake her up. But he knew that he should not be pushing her limits right now, not while she was still healing. 

He gave a frustrated sigh. 

“Fine,” he growled. 

“Perhaps tomorrow she should be left to rest the whole day,” the medic suggested with an implying expression. “She hasn’t had a day to truly begin to recuperate yet.”

Kylo crossed his arms, the pulse in his neck beating strong. A whole day meant one less day towards building her mental block. He knew she needed it, but if things went the way they seemed to be going, he would soon have the map in hand, and he would soon be busy planning an attack on Skywalker. He would not have the time to deal with Girl. 

He needed to help her with her control _now._

But, he also needed her to be healthy as soon as possible, especially if they were going to use her to get to Skywalker. 

Kylo gave another frustrated growl. He rounded on the young medic, mask inches from his face.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, after breakfast. Do _not_ try to keep me out.”

The medic’s face took on a slightly pinched look, but he nodded, eyes downcast. 

“Yes, milord.”

At that, Kylo turned and, sparing one last look at Girl’s unconscious form, left the room and the medbay, heading for the training room. He had meditating and saber practicing to do, if he was to be in the best shape for defeating Luke Skywalker before long.

* * *

  
~~~OO*OO~~~

* * *

  
Rey washed quickly, mindlessly, not even enjoying the water this time. She wanted to be done fast so she could be dressed again, and back in her room where her master was waiting. She left her hair up and only washed her body to save time, although she had to lean against the cold wall for a wasted minute to catch her breath. Still, she surmised she only took about eight minutes in total. 

Once dried and dressed—under the half-watchful eye of the sergeant—Rey was led back to her room. 

Her empty room. 

Her heart cracked, although the pain of it was quickly diminished beneath her encompassing numbness. Somehow she was able to smooth out her features and keep herself from breaking down again, as she quietly had in the shower room. 

Of course he had left. She’d either taken too long to wash or he had just decided she wasn’t worth waiting around for at all. She was wasting his time. He had more important things to do. She needed to be better. 

Sergeant Wolson seemed to also be uncertain about the whereabouts of her master, commenting only, “Where’s he gone now?” While craning his head around to check every corner, as if the Lord had become one with the shadows and was lying in wait. 

“He’ll probably be back,” he murmured to himself, helping Rey into bed and tucking the blanket around her, moving her datapad to the table. He efficiently re-pierced her veins for the IV lines and reattached the other cords and things before silently strapping the cuffs around her wrists again. She didn’t dare protest. She truly deserved worse this time.

After checking the doorway again, the medic pulled a small vial from his pocket and began loading it into her IV machine.

“What’s that?” She asked, shivering, although a part of her didn’t care. It could be poison and she wouldn’t care. She deserved it.

“It has some nutrients,” he told her quietly as he fiddled with the device. “You need supplements since you didn’t drink all of the broth or juice.”

Rey shivered again and wished she hadn’t used the second blanket to mop up her mess.

“Sorry,” she lamented quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. “You should try to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” she protested, pulling on her cuffs. She wanted to wait to see if her master would come back. She wanted him to grasp her wrists—these cuffs did not feel the same at all—and help her see the dune again, help her stop the wind. 

But the sergeant pushed the vial in all the way, Rey heard a small _click,_ and then a moment later her arm began to feel warm. 

“You need the rest,” the medic told her. “You’ve got to gain your strength.” 

The warmth was in her chest now, now spreading everywhere. Her eyelids felt heavy. 

“I have….six weeks…” she mumbled, watching him take the empty vial out and put it in his pocket again. 

“That’s right,” he whispered. “Now sleep…”

And then Rey closed her eyes, and felt the warm wave of slumber push her down, down, down, into darkness.

* * *

Rey dreamed.

There was a red dune, red like blood, jutting out into the baking heat of a white desert. The wind blew around her, pulling on her hair, tearing it from the buns and whipping it about her head and face. With heavy arms she pulled it back again, three messy buns, one two three, as the wind gusted about, sending the sand into great red clouds, floating red clouds that crawled towards the pulsing storm on the horizon. The flickering storm. Lightning cracked, and the hairs on Rey’s arms stood on end. 

At the foot of the dune there was a single bush— the skeleton of a bush, really. Just scraggly branches, reaching up from the ground like a bony hand. Rey heard voices, tiny, tiny, voices, and crept closer to it. She kneeled, and spied two pill bugs on an upper twig. They were talking in whispers.

_“Where have you been?”_

_“…had us running drills, I had to be there.”_

_“The…. has to be moved up. ….can’t stay here another day.”_

_“What? Why? Did you find…”_

_“I don’t know…. No, but, she could have… by the bacta. It’s like you said….seems obsessed…….planned. Something bad….”_

_“…Kriff…. I need more time, I didn’t get all of the—“_

_“No, no…. It was just supposed to be…….we should have been…..Including her was your idea. Now is the only time. His Knights are off the ship and he—“_

_“…not just my idea anymore….I’m not the one who—“_   
  
_“We need those……..and I…….out of the medbay……..…she looked………….….it’s unnatural, what he is……”_

The rest of the conversation blurred and warped as the bush began to sway, the air began to pulse harder, the dream undulated around her, twisting and mixing and piling on top of itself, until she felt sick from the motion and the movement. 

The rest of her dream was as if she were in a barrel of colorful liquid being slowly rolled and tossed, with great gentleness, but tossed all the same. She was like dirty laundry, not even being cleaned, just, swished around in her own brackish thoughts and imaginings.

Then, after so much time and no time at all, her mind started to settle, and the dizzying dream began to slowly, and then very quickly, dissolve away.

“…Come on, Girl, time to wake up.”

Rey made a small noise of acknowledgment, her brain still trying to figure out which way was up and which way was down. She felt faintly nauseous, and swallowed down bile. 

Something cold was creeping up her arm, and, Maker, she _hated the cold_. She was so tired of feeling cold. It made her think of a table, and a bowl of white porridge, and pain in her chest. 

The cold spread as it found her heart, and then very suddenly she was _very_ awake. Gasping awake, and yet, still bogged down as if she’d just pulled herself out from the sinking sands, and in spite of the adrenaline was bone-tired from the efforts.

“There you go,” someone crooned, leaning over and watching her as her eyes blinked open. “How are you feeling?” Her vision cleared to reveal Sergeant Wolson.

“‘m tired…” she mumbled, wanting to shut her eyes and go back to sleep, but everything was so sharp and her heart was racing, and her skin was tingling and prickling. She rubbed her arms, and looked down to realize her wrists were unbound. Was this a dream still? Nothing felt real, and yet it was _too_ real. 

“Yeah, you’ll be a little tired still, but come on, let’s sit you up. I have a task for you.”

“A task?” She asked, words sounding far away as the headboard rose and the medic helped sit her up all the way with a steady hand. She hunched over her bent legs, breathing, the room spinning slightly. 

“That’s right. I want you to just walk a bit, just around your room to warm up.”

_Huh?_

“Warm up?” She turned her head to frown up at him and spied the chrono on the wall. 03:00. Was that day cycle? Or night cycle? How long was she asleep for? Was she even awake now?

The sergeant gently pulled away her blanket, grasping her ankles to pivot her on the bed so her legs dangled. She shivered, swallowing down bile again. She did not like him touching her. 

“Yes, we’re going to start some physical therapy for you. We don’t want your leg muscles to atrophy. It’ll just be some laps back and forth in here, and then I’ll take you for a longer walk out there once you’re feeling up for it. How does that sound?”

Rey sat, breathing, her thoughts muddled and floaty but the prospect of getting up and exploring a bit was tempting.

“Okay,” she rasped, and the medic smiled. He gently pulled her mask off, then held out his hands for her own. 

“Just slide to your feet, that’s it, I’ve got you.” 

He held her up while her legs acclimated to her weight more, and then slowly maneuvered her to take small, unsteady steps around the bed. Rey looked over and realized her lines were gone again, but at least the IV ports were still in. It was painful to get needles in her arms. She’d rather not keep having to have them re-inserted, so she was thankful he left the ports in. 

She still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t another strange dream. It felt real, but not. Her body was numb, Her mind a hazy grey, and yet she buzzed with jitteriness. Perhaps she was still hooked up, asleep, and this was just her sad imagination. Maybe.

She was walked around the bed, back and forth, until little by little she felt confident enough to do it without much help from the medic, just the occasional touch at her elbow or back. She did not like it. Avoiding his lingering aid was a bigger motivator to be steadier on her feet than anything else. 

“Alright,” he said with a tight smile. “I want you to keep walking, use the bed for balance if you start to feel off. I’m going to go check on something, and then I’ll be back.”

Rey nodded with a hoarse, “Okay,” half concerned with her heavy limbs and half concerned with her skin. The numbness had abated somewhat, and the resulting sensations were _very_ strange. She was still so sensitive, and maybe it was the weird hour and the chill, but she was flush with gooseflesh. 

He left on quick feet, and Rey did as he bid her, walking around, one hand held out over the bed for quick grasping when her balance felt off. 

She was starting to feel even more energized and fatigued, her heart beating in her chest, her breathing coming a bit roughly, but it was nice to finally be up out of the bed without anyone there staring at her or interrogating her. 

She decided to take advantage of this small freedom to finally investigate the machines and things around the small room, the first order of business being the water machine. She lurched her way to it, and then with a shaking hand, she dared to grab a cup and place it tentatively beneath the nozzle. 

Water started pouring out, and she smiled at the small wonder. The expression felt foreign on her face, the muscles slightly tight. She hadn’t smiled in at least a month. Maybe longer.

She took a sip, slowly, enjoying the coolness of the drink, trying not to spill it everywhere, her mind going to pleasant, cloudy places. 

And then she quickly put the cup down, feeling the air suddenly charged. Her heart almost seemed to pause in her chest as if it, too, felt the strangeness and was curiously holding still to listen.

Two seconds later, the alarms sounded. 

Rey flinched, looking around at the red strobe lights flashing from the screen of the main computer, reaching up to cover her ears against the blaring siren coming from somewhere. 

What was this? What was happening? She looked at the water machine. It couldn’t be from that, could it? But no, she could see flashing alerts on the screens of a computer console outside of her room. Two droids moved past, and Rey could feel the durasteel beneath her feet vibrating. 

Her heart stopped again, this time from fear. 

Was this part of the war Lord Ren had spoken about? Were they under attack?

What should she do? What _could_ she do? She had no weapons nor strength to wield them. She had no idea where her master was, or what he wanted her to do in case of an emergency like this—

Wait. Yes, he had told her. He’d told her to lock herself in the ‘fresher. 

_Yes, okay,_ Rey nodded to herself. She would do that. She’d wait in the ‘fresher until either her master or Sergeant Wolson or Captain Ithowim came and got her. 

She hobbled to the bed, using it for balance because she was feeling very lightheaded and very woozy, but the bed was stable and helped her move around to the other side of the room where the ‘fresher was. 

She stumbled to the door, opening it and almost falling inside, then closed it behind her. There was no lock. She would just have to hope nothing bad tried to check it and get in.

Rey stood, trembling, clutching the fabric at her chest, breathing through the ache, breathing through the dizziness and the gooseflesh on her body. 

It wasn’t long until Rey crumpled to her knees, wheezing, swallowing down bile. She pulled herself beside the toilet and beneath the sink where it felt marginally safer, and prepared herself to wait. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👁👄👁
> 
> ^^^ I call that my Anxiously Anticipatory Mouth Breather Face, and it's what I've been sending my beta reader for the past week, because it's what I look like in front of my computer as I write out this sudden TWIST I've been planning and scheming for fuCKInG EVER. 
> 
> If I can pull this thing off, I'm going to be very fucking pleased with myself.   
> If I can't, there will be a mass exodus of readers from this story, but at least I tried 😂 🤷♀️ 
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo has a rude awakening, and paranoia sets in as memories falter....  
> Posting date: lawd jeezus I wish I could give myself two weeks to really make sure the next five chapters get written AIR TIGHT before my next posting, but that would probably kill most of you, so I'm gonna just keep up this once-a-week thing and post on Wednesday July 1, 9PM Japan time, and hope for the best 🥴


	41. Flunitrazepam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are revealed, but confusion is growing....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the lovely comments last chapter!!  
> Enjoy! ✨❤️
> 
> Light trigger warning: some physical abuse.
> 
>  **[July 7th EDIT:]** Just adding an additional trigger warning for gaslighting. (No other changes to the chapter itself)  
> Read safely, lovelies ♥️  
> .

* * *

Kylo jolted from his sleep, thrown into instant wakefulness by the Force seconds before the alarms started. When they did, he was up out of bed and dressing with practiced efficiency and urgency, his mind going through the list of possibilities for what the alarm was for. 

Were they under attack? Had someone from the Resistance or the New Republic found them? 

But no, he couldn’t feel the usual telltale signs of a ship preparing for battle, and the alert code number flashing on his personal datapad was not for warfare. There was a hum, a staticky vibration in the air that belied the sudden emergency happening, but it did not feel like war.

It was something else. 

Fully clothed—including his ragged cowl, hood thrown up—Kylo stormed onto the bridge of the _Finalizer,_ heading straight for Hux who was looking particularly disgusted with the current events and especially frosty when he noticed the Dark Lord approaching him. 

“General Hux,” Kylo growled, “what’s going on?”

“We’re locking down the ship,” the man said tersely. “One of the escape pods was found to be prepped with supplies. There seems to be an attempted deserter on board.”

Kylo felt some of the tension in his muscles relax, although his heart still pounded with the prospect of a fight.

“Quite a crew you have, General,” Kylo droned sarcastically. “Such loyalty your Order inspires. Do tell me again how effective your soldier program is.”

“One malfunctioning soldier out of a hundred-thousand does not prove my program wrong, Ren,” Hux argued hotly. “If anything this shows how effective it is.”

“Tell that to Supreme Leader,” Kylo bit back, and turned to leave. This was not a matter he needed to concern himself with. They would find the attempted deserter and have them executed as a warning to anyone else thinking of doing the same. 

In spite of the late hour he was too wired now to go back to sleep, but he figured he could find ways to use his rude awakening productively. Perhaps he could go to the training room. The workout would certainly help him burn off this battle energy buzzing through him. He had thought about checking on Girl, but reasoned she was tied to her bed, and there were medics and droids there to tend to her and keep her calm. She needed rest, so he would grant her some reprieve for now.

“ _Lord Ren,_ ” the general sneered, halting Kylo, forcing him to turn back to face the man who now had a very snarky glint to his icy eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure you have the higher ground to be lecturing _me_ on loyalty and effective conditioning.”

“And what makes you say that?” Kylo ground out, fists clenched, ready to defend his Knights and the Way of Ren. They may have been inflamed for the past two weeks, but they were all still loyal to each other, they were still following the code. What the hell was Hux talking about?

The General tucked his arms behind his back haughtily, shoulders straightening stiffly, face twisted with a contemptuous smile. 

“Aside from your shorttail evidently being rather _difficult to control_ lately,” he began, “The supplies on board the escape pod appeared to be mostly _medical_ in nature. As if someone _sick_ was going to be leaving.”

The slur against Cseenan had set Kylo’s teeth on edge in second-hand indignation at first, his muscles coiling for violent action, but now he kept himself still, kept himself from reacting in any way. His mask was a boon in that. But inside he was reeling. 

Hux quirked a brow. “Have you checked on your frail little desert Junk, Ren? Are you sure you’ve got a tight enough leash on it?”

 _There’s no way she’s tried to leave_ , Kylo thought.

“She’s cuffed to her bed,” he bit back aloud. “Unless she’s suddenly acquired the ability to release medical cuffs on her own, she’s still down in the medbay.”

Hux pursed his lips, unconvinced and disdainful still, a salacious curve to his scoff and smirk.

“Well, I’m sure you know exactly what her _abilities_ and _skills_ are, Lord Ren, so I suppose I’ll leave it to your better judgement.”

Kylo said nothing, wanting to put his fist through the smarmy man’s mouth, thinking about how he’d probably hear less of that nasally voice if Hux had broken teeth keeping his lips shut out of vanity. But he kept himself in check, turning on his heel to stomp out of the bridge, heading for the nearest lift. 

What Hux was suggesting was impossible. The mere idea that Girl….

But she’d asked for the ship schematics, hadn’t she? She’d highlighted the escape pods. She knew where they were. Perhaps marking all of the other places had just been a distraction, a way to hide her intentions. 

Her powers were stronger now, and she could have been playing him, she could have more control than she let on. She certainly fell into meditation faster than he’d expected. She might be able to undo her restraints. She could get up and try to escape.

Kylo breathed heavily as he stood in the lift, flexing his hands into fists, feeling the air grow frigidly cold around him as he shook with unspent anger.

If Girl wasn’t in her bed—

If he found out she was behind this—

No amount of Force-sensitivity or strange connection would save her from his wrath.

* * *

The medbay was quiet when Kylo stormed in, ignoring the inquiring droids to head straight for Girl’s medroom. 

He could see even before entering that her bed was empty. 

He almost unsheathed his lightsaber on the flashing equipment and bed, intent on destroying everything she’d been in contact with before hunting her down and making her wish she’d never been born, making her wish she’d not woken up from the bacta tank. When he was through with her, she would probably need to go in again, but he wouldn’t allow it. No, she’d suffer. She’d suffer and _learn._

Breathing raggedly, seeing red, Kylo stood still a moment to stretch out his senses and try to pinpoint how far she’d gotten, only to jerk back, his body flaring from how _close_ she was. 

Kylo stalked the room, upending and checking every corner, every nook and cranny. He punched the ‘fresher control panel, the door sliding open to reveal Girl, curled up beneath the sink, hands clutching her chest, eyes dark and wide as she first looked up in fear, and then in relief. 

“Lord Ren,” she breathed, her body relaxing. “Thank the Maker.”

Kylo looked down at her, his own tension easing from his taut muscles, his temper receding somewhat. He wanted to shout at her, he wanted to grab her and shake her and ask her why she was hiding in the ‘fresher, what did she know about the alarms and the escape pod—

But she was _relieved to see him_. 

He could feel it viscerally through the Force. There was no mistake, and it wasn’t a lie. She was relieved to see him, which told him she couldn’t be the one trying to leave. She’d be terrified to see him otherwise. 

So if she wasn’t behind all of this, then what the _fuck_ was going on?  
  


* * *

  
  
~~~~~~O**O~~~~~~

* * *

  
Rey pressed her forehead to her knees, shivering from the cold sweat and the adrenaline coursing her body. She was exhausted, and yet too wired for her mind to shut down as she closed her eyes. Her body felt off, her skin tingling, her head spinning sometimes and causing her stomach to roil every now and then.

What was going on? 

She shivered again, the air getting colder and heavy with darkness, and she had only half a mind to interpret what it meant before the ‘fresher door hissed open. Lord Ren stood stiffly, looming in the doorway, so terrifyingly menacing with his cowl and hood adorned, his hand poised over his lightsaber.

Rey could tell he was _furious,_ and for a split second she worried he was about to actually attack her and cut her to pieces for a wrongdoing unknown.

But a second later it didn’t matter. Her master had arrived, and now she would be safe. Now she would know what to do, because he would tell her what to do. 

“Lord Ren,” she wheezed, the relief making her dizzy. “Thank the Maker.”

He was still so difficult to read outside of his anger, but Rey thought he seemed to be settling back from his frigid fury. What was he so angry about? Surely not _her._

His voice was rough and accusatory when he asked her, “Why are you in here?”

Rey shivered again, swallowing saliva. Why did she feel so ill? 

“I got scared when the alarms began,” she explained hoarsely. “I didn’t know if it was because of danger, and thought it best if I locked myself in the ‘fresher.” Her voice became small, her shoulders tensing as she looked up in fearful search for validation. “Like you said to.”

Lord Ren was silent a moment, and then more tension bled from his large frame. His hand dropped away from his lightsaber and he nodded. 

“Yes, I did,” he uttered. “Good girl. Come on, up.” He stepped in, held out and made an impatient motion with his hand. 

It was only a moment of flushed relief before Rey accepted the limb and shakily heaved herself up. She had to grab onto his solid arm with both hands as her world tilted and her knees almost gave out, her shoulder hitting his chest as she stumbled, eliciting a breathy apology from her and an attempt to stagger back a more respectful distance. She thought about letting go of his arm as well, but she knew she’d fall if she did.

“W-what’s happening?” She panted, eyes screwed shut as she breathed through her lightheadedness and vertigo. “Is it the war?”

“No,” he rumbled, stiffly letting Rey get her feet back under her before leading her back to the bed by her grip on his ribbed sleeve. “The ship is going on lockdown.”

Rey sat heavily, picking up the oxygen mask with a shaking hand and pressing it to her face, breathing deeply.

“Why?”

“Someone tried to leave without permission.”

Rey made an incredulous face. 

_“Why?”_ This ship had everything. Aside from the painful things she’d experienced, it was luxury incarnate. They had food and _water machines._ Who would want to leave it?   
  
“We don’t know.” He muttered. He looked to the side, then back at her, his tone hardening. 

“Did anyone come to you, saying anything about going anywhere? Has anyone tried to get you to leave the medbay?” 

“No sir,” she rasped, shaking her head vehemently, then regretted it as it threw the room into a spin. She swallowed bile, willing her stomach to settle.

“The only people who have come to see me are the medics, and you, Sir. No one else, I swear.” She hoped he could feel her honesty. 

“Who let you out of the restraints?”

“Sergeant Wolson, Sir. He wanted me to try walking around.”

Lord Ren looked towards the door, as if searching for the aforementioned medic, his hands fisted at his sides. 

He was intimidating, standing so close, so tall over her hunched form. He’d been standing so far away recently that she’d almost forgotten how massive he was. He was especially big when he was agitated, as he was now.

Rey looked down, confused and uncertain. Why _was_ he interrogating her so much? Did she give any indication that she would run away?

“Do you think _I_ was the one who tried to leave?” She asked, and Lord Ren merely looked down at her, silent. Her heart fell, her body tensing.   
  
“I’m trying to get better,” she wheezed, “So I can be a better servant to you. Why would I leave the ship?” 

His head tilted as he crossed his arms. 

“So if someone offered you a chance to escape, you wouldn’t take it?”

“Escape?” She looked up at him, confused, and also sad for some reason. “Escape _what?”_

He didn’t answer again, and Rey remembered what Sergeant Wolson had told her in the shower room, about Lord Ren having some darker purpose for her. Was that the truth, then? Was she to be some sort of sacrifice or agent of a dark ritual? Was that the thing she was supposedly escaping? They had rituals for killing themselves, apparently, so why couldn’t there be one for gaining power through killing others? 

_Should_ she be thinking of escape?

But Rey shook her head, despondent, her voice thick as another realization immediately came upon her. 

“Where would I go? I have no friends, no family. I don’t even know where in the galaxy we are. At least….at least here I…have a..” She closed her eyes, pulling draughts from the mask, willing the black spots in her vision to go away. She did not want to faint.

“Alright, Girl, breathe,” he coached lowly, sounding exasperated beneath the gruffness of his tone. “Don’t talk anymore.”

She nodded silently, doing as he said. 

More sweat was beading on her skin now, cooling from her master’s cold mood and making her shiver. Her stomach roiled, and she swallowed several times, breathing heavily. She felt _so ill_. She winced, doubling over with a small choked-off whine as her abdomen cramped.

Lord Ren seemed to notice her pained body language then. 

“What’s wrong _now?”_

“I…I don’t feel well, Sir,” she mumbled. “Everything is…moving. And…” She felt floaty for a moment, the room and things moving like cloth in a breeze. She watched it for a moment, her gaze drifting to her master, her hand with the mask falling to her lap as she squinted up at him, blurting out the first thought that appeared.

“You’re so _tall.”_

Rey blinked, looking away again, her hand coming up to her mouth as her cheeks flushed even more. 

“I don’t know why I just said that.”

Suddenly her face was held between his hands, angled up so much that her neck strained. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, stepping close enough for his robes to brush against her toes, and she tried to focus her blurring eyesight on his visor. His thumbs pulled down on the skin below her eyes, then up at her eyelids as they fluttered, his mask filling her vision as he leaned down closer.

“Did they give you drugs?”

She frowned, confused. “What? No, no, I-I don’t know.”

He released her, standing straight and stepping back again. She swayed forward, her face tingling and warm. 

“Your pupils are dilated,” he growled. “And you’re obviously under the influence of something. What did they give you?”

Rey felt a shock go through her at his words. She was _…drugged?_

“I don’t know, Sir, I swear,” she insisted, shaking. “I was just…sleeping, and then I was awake, and Sergeant Wolson told me to try walking, and then the alarms went off. I don’t remember getting any drugs.”

She panted, pressing the oxygen mask to her face again, feeling her mind sharpen again for a moment before another wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. She blinked away the wetness in her eyes, frustrated with her body’s reaction. _Not again. No more crying._

_“Stop crying!” **SMACK.**_

Rey flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. _Stop, shut up, go away_.   
  
She looked up, feeling dazed and afraid, and just…horribly confused. 

“What’s going on?” She choked out. 

He was getting tense again, the air chilling even more as his temper began to rise back up. 

She shouldn’t have asked. If he didn’t know, he wasn’t going to want to admit it. Rey was going to get slapped if she didn’t shut her mouth. Slapped or _worse._

He jabbed a finger at her, making her flinch.

“You _stay.”_

She gave a ragged, “Yessir,” and then watched as he swept out of the room in a haze of freezing air and black robes.

He returned just a moment later with a medidroid.

“Screen her blood for intoxicants,” he ordered as they came around the bed. 

The droid beeped, holding out the finger pad. Rey quickly supplied the digit, holding still to keep herself from flinching at the small prick. There was a stretched moment wherein the droid sat quietly whirring as it analyzed her blood, and then it beeped.   
  
< Flunitrazepam and Romazicon detected>

“What are they?” Lord Ren demanded.

<Flunitrazepam is a general tranquilizer and Romazicon is the drug commonly used to reverse the effects of Flunitrazepam>

Lord Ren looked at her, his hidden gaze burning.

“Did you misbehave? Is that why they gave you a tranquilizer?”

Rey shook. “N-no, Lord Ren, I’ve been good, I-I promise, I don’t know how—“ her eyes searched the air as her mind searched her memories. “I came back from showering, and, and I got back into bed, but…I must have fallen asleep—“ She winced, trying to remember. Things were so hazy. 

She looked up at him, desperate for him to believe her. “Sometimes I have b-bad dreams, and I, I _thrash._ Maybe someone gave me something in my sleep, Sir. I just, I don’t remember. Please.”

“You didn’t drink anything before sleeping?” He asked. “They didn’t give you anything at all?”

Rey shook her head minutely. “No, I was too…upset..after the exam to drink the broth, and then I spilled the juice…” She felt the blood drain from her face, she looked over at the water machine.

“I had a tiny bit of water,” she admitted, “right before the alarms.” She shouldn’t have done it. She shouldn’t have been so greedy.

He looked as well, but shook his head. “I doubt it was the water.”

The female medic appeared in the doorway, stopping short when she noticed Lord Ren. His head snapped to her direction, his fists clenching. 

“What _the fuck_ did you do to my slave?”

Rey blanched at the coarse language, glancing up at Lord Ren slightly aghast. 

The medic reeled back as well. “Wha—Milord, I didn’t do anything to her.” Her face became tight with medical urgency, taking quick steps closer.

“What’s wrong? Is your heart acting up?”

“She’s been _drugged,”_ Lord Ren growled.

_“What?”_

“Unless you have a good reason why she was given Flunitrazepam and its reversal?”

“I don’t know, milord,” she admitted, drawing close to check Rey’s eyes and visual vitals. She went to the holoscreen, scanning through her medical chart. 

“There’s nothing written here that she was administered those things by any of us,” she stated, turning to the Lord. 

“Where is Sergeant Wolson?” He demanded. Again, the woman looked confused.

“He’s on the day-cycle post, milord. He should be asleep right now. I can call for him if you’d like, though.”

“Girl says he was here,” he bit back. “She says he woke her up to walk,” he looked down at Rey sharply. “Right?”

“Yessir,” she rasped, nodding quickly, wishing he would stop being angry, and hoping her obedience would help with that. “He, he told me he’d take me out there,” she indicated to the main area, “to practice walking.” 

The medic shook her head. “He’s not supposed to be awake. And I didn’t see him.” She looked at Rey, unconvinced. “Are you _sure?”_

Rey suddenly _wasn't_ sure. Everything was hazy, and if she was drugged she might have misremembered, or hallucinated even. Things were certainly feeling incredibly surreal, especially with the walls undulating slowly every now and then. What was real anymore? 

She looked between the two figures standing before her. “I-I, I don’t know.“

Lord Ren stared down at her stiffly. 

“If Sergeant Wolson wasn’t here, then how did you get out of the restraints?” 

Rey wheezed into the mask, shaking. “They were just, they were just off when I woke up, Sir, I don’t know, but, but I swear he was…he was _here….”_ But she wasn’t certain anymore, and the doubt creeping up on her made her feel like she was lying, and she knew Lord Ren could feel it too, and the temperature dropped again. 

_Oh, no._

Rey had barely any time to react except to be filled with terror as her master’s hand was raised, clawed like a raptor’s foot, and a pressure inside her throat cut off her air, almost lifting her from the bed. 

“Are you _playing_ me right now?” He hissed, furious and merciless. “Have you been playing me this whole time? Do you think I won’t find out _what’s really going on?”_

“Lord Ren!” The medic cried, backing up in fright as Rey scrabbled at her neck, mouth gaping for air that couldn’t go past the vice sealing her lungs off. She tried to speak, tried to tell her master that she wasn’t, she didn’t know, _please master, please don’t kill me_ , her watering eyes begging in futile at a gaze hidden behind a cold, emotionless mask.

It lasted only a few seconds before he released her, but it was enough to send her heart into a frantic beat as she wheezed and coughed, sliding to her knees on the floor, choking out and begging,

“N-no, Lord Ren, I p-promise, I don’t, I-I’m not p-playing you—“ 

Her chest ached and her stomach was cramping, and she was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. 

She was going to throw up. 

Rey glanced up at the woman, yearning for help somehow. The medic looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, though, her wide eyes on Rey like she was a snarling creature, not a gasping slave.  
  
“ _Help her,_ ” Lord Ren barked while motioning sharply at Rey, making both females flinch. He paced away, arms flexing stiffly and vocomodulator growling electrically.

The medic stood backed up against the monitors for a moment still, and then when Lord Ren was several steps away she tentatively reached towards Rey, who all but flung herself at the woman. 

“I’m—I’m gonna be s-sick,” she rasped, and the medic quickly supported her as they stumbled to the ‘fresher. Rey fell to her knees at the toilet and retched up acidic bile and what little water she’d drank.

_Such a waste._

“It’s probably a side effect of the drugs working against each other,” the woman explained.

Lord Ren’s grainy voice spoke up suddenly from behind them, making them jump again.

“If she ends up damaged by the drugs, I’m holding you _personally responsible_ until you find out who gave them to her.”

“Yes, milord,” the woman replied, looking like she was about to pass out herself.

“And if _either_ of you leave this medbay before I come back,” he snarled, “words will not describe the things I will do to you, nor the pain you will experience. Understood?” 

Rey looked over her shoulder at him, trembling and sweating and sick, somehow managing to rasp out a “Yessir,” before her master turned in a sweep of black cloaks and frosty air and left. 

She had no idea what he meant by ‘playing with him’. She had no idea why he was so angry with her. But she remembered what Captain Ithowim had said, that Lord Ren had a short fuse and was angered easily. Was this just her reality? Being attacked and threatened for things that made no sense, for things that weren’t her fault? Troog used to beat her for things she had no control over too. Vins did worse. So really, she should be used to it by now. 

But she had really thought that things were slightly better between herself and her master after he had helped her so patiently last night. She had certainly felt more hopeful, more grounded as he’d gently guided her through her mind. 

She was so _stupid._ A stupid, hopeful, idiot. 

She should know better now that her current master was not one to expect much goodness from. He had probably only been helping her because her lack of control was a danger to the crew, and he didn’t want her powers to be discovered because it was shameful that they had been given to a slave. His kindness was a tool of manipulation, just like Troog’s and Vins’. 

Rey coughed and retched again, wincing from the pain. Whatever was going on now, she hoped it was resolved soon. She hoped they found out why she was drugged and who did it. And for jeopardizing her already fragile relationship with Lord Ren—as inevitable as his anger apparently was— she hoped whoever it was that caused all this…

Well, Rey hoped they faced the consequences. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and his trust issues. 😒 smh  
> Fun fact: flunitrazepam is another name for rohypnol, AKA roofies.
> 
> I've been a busy bee this past week, writing as much as I can, as fast as I can, so that I have time to edit and make these next several chapters super airtight. This is the first time I've ever written anything with a mystery, so plz be patient and gentle with me while I work out the kinks 🙇♀️
> 
> Also, as I continue to write and plan, I am excited to say that we are coming up to the end of what I call Volume 1. Volume 2 will be a pretty major arc for our two beautiful idiots-- in many, _many_ ways--and it will also be split up into parts (and mini-arcs) the same way the past 40-odd chapters have been.  
> I👏am👏so👏excited👏🤩✨  
> We're still on the angst train for a couple more stops, but there is HOPE ON THE HORIZON, Y'ALL. I PROMISE. 
> 
> ~Friendly Neighborhood Author Commentary Time~  
> It probably feels like things have gone backwards right now with Rey and Kylo, but although people as a whole are absolutely capable of going through big personal steps towards being a better person and/or having a better relationship with someone, people also often revert to their most ingrained reactions (no matter how destructive) when put in stressful conditions (until they can change that ingrained reaction, over time). Kylo and Rey have had some good developments between them, but when put under stress and tested, Kylo is still an angry asshole and Rey is still a beaten down slave. Eventually we WILL see character development that sticks, but right now things are still shaky for them, because psychology.  
> They babies. They gotta crawl before they can walk 😂 
> 
> Just wanted to say something, in case some people thought I was creating more angst between them just for angst's sake 😌✨ 
> 
> Next Chapter: Tempers are high and confusion spikes as the mystery tangles up...  
> Posting date: Wednesday, July 8th, at 9PM Japan time


	42. Leading Up the Garden Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo learns some bad news and things do not go well for Rey....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING:**
> 
> Heavy gaslighting, and abuse

* * *

Kylo was a deadly shadow as he raged down the corridors towards the escape pods. He needed to see it, he needed to witness himself what sorts of supplies had been gathered for the desertion. ‘Medical’ could mean bacta, gauze, and simple supplies, general supplies. It did not have to mean anything related to Girl. 

The corridor leading up to the escape pod galley was abuzz with storm troopers, officers, and security droids. They parted quickly as Kylo stormed up, a ranking officer falling into step beside him.

“Lord Ren, we have secured the area. Although we haven’t found the one responsible, we will be conducting interviews to find the culprit.”

“Who discovered the pod?” Kylo asked as they neared it. 

“A security officer. They alerted a droid, that then set off the alarm.”

Kylo braced himself against the lip of the access hatch and leaned down to look inside. The air grew colder around him as he scanned what was visible, and the officer took a small step back. It was no simple collection of supplies. He could clearly see bags of saline and other fluids, IV lines, an oxygen tank and mask, and blankets. 

These were obviously supplies meant for Girl. There was no one else sick enough on the ship to need these things.

But _why?_ He had almost believed that she wasn’t trying to escape, but her story didn’t add up either, and he could tell her confidence in what she had told him was breaking. She might not be the one planning this, but she knew something. He was certain of it. 

The sharp stab of betrayal he felt was like swallowing a molten knife. After all he’d done for her since she’d woken up—assuring her he’d have things for her to do, that he’d teach her how to control her powers—she was still willing to jeopardize it. And for _what?_

He stood back up, facing the officer.

“What’s the meaning of this? Where did these supplies come from?”

“We are looking into it presently, milord. We will find out—“

“Then stop wasting my time and _do it_ ,” he snarled, turning away sharply and stiffly heading back the way he came. 

What did Girl know? Why was she drugged? Was it some sort of ploy, to make her seem innocent? It didn’t make sense. How would she get the drugs in the first place?  
  
Kylo was near the medbay when his comm beeped. It was from his secured line with Tomaxx, so he quickly found a comms room and went in, answering in a clipped tone as the door shut behind him.

“Tomaxx Ren, progress report.” 

_“Apologies for waking you, Master, but it couldn’t wait.”_

“You didn’t wake me. What is the update?” 

There was a slight pause from the Knight before he stated, _“I don’t wish to mislead you, Master, so I will tell you outright that we did not acquire the droid, nor the map. But we did capture the Resistance pilot, Poe Dameron. I believe with your guidance we can extract information about their plans and their base of operations from him. I’ve sent out another probe to my other contacts, telling them to keep an eye out for the droid. It will be in our hands soon, Master.”_

Kylo froze, the air pulsing around him, his heart beat ringing in his ears. _We did not acquire the droid, nor the map. We did not acquire, nor the, we did not—_

He realized he was about to crush his commlink in his hand, and managed to loosen his grip enough to save it. His voice was low, deadly, as he asked,

“What happened? How could you let it get away, _again?”_

_“We’re not entirely sure, Master. It was evidently programmed to be particularly evasive. It must have slipped onto another ship on Donadus and left the planet. We almost came to blows with the shipjackers about it, but upon scanning their minds I determined they were being truthful in their ignorance of its whereabouts.”_

“Are you sure?”

_“I checked **thoroughly,** Master. I’m sure.”_

“And what of the Falcon?”

_“We had to effectively trade it to the shipjackers in order to get the pilot.”_

So he was not even rid of that man’s kriffing ship.

Kylo shook with barely contained rage. “Words…cannot describe…my _disappointment_ right now, Tomaxx Ren.”

_“Understood, Master. Cseenan and I will accept our punishment for failing. I request only that it be after we interrogate the pilot.”_

“Very well,” he said through gritted teeth. He might need Tomaxx anyways. The two of them working on the pilot together would result in more information found. 

“What is your ETA to the ship?”

_“An hour. We are taking a shorter route.”_

“Good.” The sooner they could crack the pilot, the better. Supreme Leader Snoke would not be happy about the loss of the map. But if they could give him the Resistance base, it might satisfy him long enough for them to go after the droid again. Maybe.

“One last thing,” he added, thinking of the current situation on the ship. “There was an attempted desertion. Someone prepped an escape pod, but it was discovered before they could take it. The ship is on lockdown, so you’ll need to use the secondary docking code.”

There was another short pause as the Knight digested the information quickly. 

_“Understood, Master. Did they catch whoever it was?”_

“Not yet, but perhaps Cseenan Ren could be of some use with that.”

_“As always, he is ready to do his part, Master,”_ the Chiss said lowly, the underlying message ringing clear. Cseenan was ready to amend things. Was Kylo?

Five minutes ago he would have said yes. But now, with the map lost _again,_ he found himself feeling less than forgiving. He would wait to see what information they could glean from the pilot. If it turned out to be fruitful, he would reconsider. 

“Fine,” he growled. “I will be waiting for you in the docking bay. Do _not_ make me wait longer than I have to. I want the pilot here _now.”_

_“Yes, Master.”_

Kylo cut off the transmission, and then stood and breathed, trying to reign in his anger, but he was so fucking disappointed, so, _so—_

His saber was in his hand and ignited within the next breath, sparks and plasma flying as he roared and slashed at the console, cutting and melting and destroying the wall of electronics, and yet still barely spending the brunt of his temper.

He stopped, panting heavily, surveying the damage with only half a care. 

The door opened at his mental push, and he exited without a backward glance, the crew in the corridor quickly moving far out of his way as he bore down the hall. He only just remembered to turn off his lightsaber right before entering the medbay. 

“Did you find out anything?” He demanded as he stormed into Girl’s room. She was back on the bed, still looking quite ill but hooked back up to her IVs. Hopefully the drugs would be flushed from her system soon. 

The female medic was stood in the corner, nervously biting a fingernail. She jumped, standing to attention as he came in.

“No, milord,” she said. “Although,” her eyes shifted to Girl, hardening. “The slave insisted I call for Sergeant Wolson to corroborate her story. I thought I would wait for you, though, since you’re the master.” She looked back at Kylo, waiting for his say. 

He looked at Girl, who sat nervously on the bed, eyes downcast. She had seemed so innocent, so truthfully uninvolved in all of this. But now…

“Call for him,” he ordered.

“Yessir,” the medic said, going to the console. 

Kylo stood, arms crossed, unabashedly staring down Girl, who was still pointedly looking down at her lap and growing more and more fidgety as the minutes dragged on. His eyes narrowed, taking it in. 

Finally, the young medic appeared in the doorway, dressed smartly, but with a harried exhaustion weighing down his features. No doubt he was awoken by the alarms, and uncomfortable with being summoned.

“Lord Ren,” he greeted with a nod, his brows drawn down as he took in the room. “How may I be of service?”

“Girl was given Flunitrazepam and Romazicon,” he growled outright. “Do you know anything about that?”

The medic’s frown deepened. “Is the relevant information not written in her log?”

“No.”

He blinked. “That’s very odd. If things aren’t recorded in the log, it could be potentially fatal, especially if conflicting medicines are given.” He looked at Girl. “Are you alright?”

She was still looking down as she mumbled, “Just nauseous. And dizzy.”

“Hm. Probably from the drugs working against each other.”

The female medic spoke up. “That’s what I told her, sir.”

He nodded, face contemplative. “Did you start her on a saline drip to flush it out?”

“Yessir,” she said shortly. “And I made sure she had nothing else in her system.”

“That’s good—“

Kylo’s temper flared, his voice sharp. “ _Stop talking_.”

The medic cut himself off, lips pressed together in a thin line. The woman took a small step further away, arms crossed over her middle. Girl was still as a stone, the machine betraying her elevated heart rate.

“Sergeant Wolson,” Kylo addressed stiffly, “Girl says you woke her up before the alarms to take her walking.” He turned to look at the man. “Is that true?”

The medic looked confused. “I was in my room when the alarms went off, not here.” He looked at Girl in concern. “Did they startle you from a dream? Is your heart okay?”

Kylo looked at her, fists clenched at his sides, trying to breathe, just _breathe._ The medic was being truthful, Kylo couldn’t feel any lie from him. Which meant Girl had lied. 

And he did _not tolerate lying._

* * *

  
~~~~~O*O~~~~~

* * *

Rey looked at Sergeant Wolson, her heart cracking further in her ribcage. 

“Y-you—“ She started, and the words wouldn’t form for a moment because her brain just couldn’t seem to cope with what he was saying, what it meant. 

“You woke me up,” she finally pushed out, voice small. “You said, you said we would go walking.” 

“You do need to walk so your legs don’t atrophy,” he chided softly. “But it’s very late right now. Why would I wake you up? You need your rest.”

He turned to Lord Ren. “Flunitrazepam can cause hallucinations, milord. She might be affected.”

“That doesn’t explain how she got drugged in the first place,” the bristling Lord growled back, “nor how she got out of the restraints.”

“I-I’m…” Rey shook in her bed. She looked at Lord Ren, her heart pounding, so confused and unsure and _terrified._ She didn’t know what happened anymore. She couldn’t remember things right. She was so sure….

But no, she wasn’t. And now Lord Ren thought she lied. 

She was going to be punished for lying. 

It felt like all those times with Vins, when the other children would make things up to get her in trouble. It felt like when ‘the incident’ happened and Troog didn’t believe her side of things. She felt lost, she felt hopeless. 

Already her mind was drawing inward again, like old times, her face relaxing into blankness, into acceptance, her crashing emotions dulling to almost nothing. Her lips tingled and her ears felt full of wool, the beeping of machines and the continued speaking of the medic became muffled. Her skin felt numb.

She’s not entirely sure what was being said, but it sounded like the sergeant was arguing it could have been a droid. But no, it would have come up on the file, and do you people have drugs just lying about, for anyone to take? No, milord. Then how—We don’t know—

Rey tuned it out.

She was exhausted. And sick. And, and

numb.

_“You little shit, you little sand parasite, fucking slave, you’re worthless, you’re meaningless without me. You gonna keep lying? Or are you going to tell the truth? Huh?” **SLAP** _

She flinched. The door had shut. 

She was alone in the room with Lord Ren. 

He was coming to her bedside, the air frigid, and she shivered, trembled uncontrollably. But it felt like it wasn’t her body shaking at the same time. Her brain told her it was cold. But, she didn’t feel it. 

Rey knew what was coming. She pulled down her oxygen mask, looked up at Lord Ren’s broad chest, an apology only halfway out when—

Her body was frozen with the Force, her jaw clenched shut, cutting off her words, every muscle, tendon, and joint _screaming_ in tightness, every nerve on fire, like her whole body was a cramp dipped in acid. The pain was so intense she almost felt like screaming herself, but she didn’t. She was afraid he’d cut off her air if she did.

Lord Ren loomed over her, his crooked hand actually _sparking,_ the air crackling like ice, stinging her skin like sand. 

“I said _no lying_ ,” he snarled. “Now tell me, what happened? Were you involved with the escape plan? How did you get out of your restraints, and how did you become drugged? Did you use the Force? Did you drug yourself? Who else is involved?”

Rey took in a small, trembling breath. She felt her jaw loosen as he allowed her to speak.

“I don’t know,” she whined, her voice strained from pain. It was the truth this time. She didn’t know. 

His dark mask was inches from her as he leaned over, boxing her in with his powerful arms braced on the bed on either side. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I-I can’t r-remember, Sir.”

“ _Figure it out_ ,” he snapped, his staticky voice the only thing that broke through the wool in her hearing. He pointed a threatening finger at her temple, tapping it. “Or I’ll figure it out for you.”

Rey swallowed, her throat burning. 

“Yessir,” she rasped. 

“Yessir _what?”_

Rey panted, aching for the oxygen. Sweat broke out across her skin, her mind supplying the words that would hopefully end this absolute _agony._

“Y-Yessir, I’ll figure it out.”

_“Good.”_ He stood up straight, fists creaking at his sides. “The next time you lie will be worse—I could hold you this way for _hours,_ do you understand?”

Rey whimpered, nodding minutely. _Hours like this?_ Just a few minutes more would kill her, she was certain. 

He continued, snapping, “I don’t have time for this. My Knights are due back and I have more important things to deal with than figure out what you did on top of everything else. Next time I come back here, you had better hope to have your memories back. And Girl,” His finger was back in her face, his voice deadly. “If I find out you had anything to do with the escape pod, if I find out you _remember_ things and don’t tell me, there won’t be enough bacta in the entire galaxy to fix what I’ll do to you. What you’re feeling now will seem like a _kindness.”_

She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Her mouth was frozen shut, her teeth chattering. She was both in agony and numb, with terror beneath it all, still raging through her body and making her chest hurt and her skin prickle in warning. 

The door opened revealing the two medics, plus Captain Ithowim, waiting and caught mid-sentence outside. Her body was released from the excruciating hold, her torso slumping over her bent legs as she panted and shook, pain still shooting up her body from her inflamed nerves.

As Lord Ren exited the room, he roughly commanded the small crowd, “Put her back in the restraints. If I see her out of them again, you’ll learn first-hand what a _cauterized wound_ feels like.”

“Yes, milord. We’ll investigate the source of the drugs and have a guard posted as well—“

“Then _get it done already_.”

And then he was gone, although his cold and his darkness remained, tainting the air and coating Rey’s tongue. She gulped down great draughts of air while the disgruntled captain strapped the mask around her mouth and nose again. 

As the female medic tightened the straps of the cuffs around her wrists—almost _too_ tight—Rey started a mantra in her head, hoping the words would distract her from the pulsing ache wracking her frame, as it usually had when she’d been beaten on Jakku.

_Numb. I’m numb. I’m nothing and I feel nothing—_

Her eyes fell upon Sergeant Wolson, who stood silently off to the side scanning her vitals screen, and her thoughts cut off.

Wracked with cramps in her muscles and an ache in her bones, Rey stared at him with increasing upset. But there were no tears this time. No, the pain Rey felt in her chest was different. It was something else, something deeper. 

It felt like betrayal. 

She had trusted him, even if just a little bit, and she felt like he had thrown her to the ripper-raptors. 

Although, if Sergeant Wolson was telling the truth, then _she_ was the one in the wrong, _she_ was the one who had almost gotten _him_ into trouble with Lord Ren. Just like she had with Captain Ithowim. 

But, she could have _sworn…._

She schooled her expression, looking away from him. Even if he was lying and he had woken her up, she had no place to be contradicting him. No one ever believed the slave. The slave was never right. She should know this, she should be used to this. 

And yet beneath the resignation in her chest, something flared into existence like an old wick, sputtering and sparking but lit all the same with _dangerous_ potential: 

Rey felt _angry._

She tried to smother it, tried to keep it down, because if there was one thing that brought that darkness bubbling up within her as much as fear, it was anger. 

But she felt like she didn’t deserve punishment from Lord Ren this time. It wasn’t fair—she didn’t remember how she was drugged, nor how the restraints had unlocked. Even though Sergeant Wolson apparently hadn’t been there, she still felt like it was somehow partially his fault anyways that she had endured the Force-wrath of her master. 

The young medic lingered only a moment after the others had filed out, giving her a concerned look, maybe wanting to check on her, maybe feeling sorry for the poor slave who got punished because of him. 

She only glanced at him, then pointedly trained her eyes on the ceiling as her body shook and throbbed. 

He left without a word, and Rey was left to her pain and her thoughts.

_Figure it out_ , her master had bade her. She wasn’t sure how she was going to accomplish that, because she had a feeling he wouldn’t believe her no matter what she told him now. This was worse than all the other times Lord Ren has been angry with her. This time there was potential ramifications that were _extremely serious_. Deadly, even.  
  
Rey dared to think that maybe she _should_ be considering escape, if more of this excruciating pain was what awaited for her if she failed. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pleaserememberwhatiwroteattheendoflastchapter 😬😬😬😬😬😬 Kylo is hella traumatized and lashes out in anger and violence when he's triggered. Getting woken up at the asscrack of dawn, told bad news on all sides, feeling lied to, etc. can lead an unstable man to believe the worst in people/have bad confirmation bias, and then be a super asshole about it.   
> I would like to remind people that this story is going to be super fucking long, and there WILL be time for Kylo/Ben to be redeemed through Good Things. #bendemption #reyloisendgame 
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo and the Knights interrogate a new prisoner, some steps forward are made, but one must always remain vigilant...  
> The next two chapters are so important, and I'm probably more impatient for you to read them than you guys are, so I've decided to bump up posting 🤪 Posting date is Saturday, July 11th at 9PM Japan Time


	43. Fire Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and the Knights interrogate the Resistance pilot Poe Dameron, and Kylo tries to settle things between himself and Cseenan Ren.... _but_.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light trigger warning for torture. 
> 
> ENJOYYYY 👀

* * *

Kylo stood frigidly silent in the private docking bay that housed the high-ranking shuttles, his temper causing his immediate area to fizzle with cold static. He was breathing deeply, slowly, trying to settle himself. His hands flexed and fisted at his sides in an attempt to further release the volatile energy pent up within him.

The hangar showed evidence of the lockdown by the groups of stormtrooper squads that marched by, a tense quality to the air as they did—especially as they passed him. He knew the entire crew would be effectively quarantined to their sectors and inspected thoroughly for the deserter until they were found. 

And when they were, Kylo would make sure to interrogate them himself. He would not help with the search, as it was a First Order issue to be solved by their Standard Operating Procedures on the matter, but as soon as the culprit was in custody he would certainly interject himself and _thoroughly_ question the deserter on how Girl was involved. 

He was still convinced she knew something—her lack of confidence in her changing story didn’t help—but he didn’t have time to deal with it outside of the Force-hold reminder about his abhorrence of lying. He knew he should have just gone into her mind to look for himself about the restraints and drugs, but something had held him back from the invasion, even in spite of his extreme rage.

_You know what held you back_ , a voice snickered in his mind. _You’re so wea—_

SHUT UP.  
  
Kylo shook his head, growling. He didn’t have time to deal with intrusive voices, either. He needed to be there to receive his Knights when they brought the prisoner—the pilot—on board. He needed to dig into the pilot’s mind and figure out how to appease Snoke without the map. He certainly wouldn’t be holding back from piercing the prisoner’s thoughts and ripping out what he needed. He wasn’t afraid to do his duty in that. 

He felt it when his Knights came out of hyperspace near the _Finalizer,_ their dark Force signatures easing some of the tension in his back. For all the shit that had been happening, and for how horribly, _dangerously_ disappointed he was with them now, it was still a small relief to have his apprentices—his brethren—back during this commotion. He knew he could trust them. He knew they would not lie to him. 

Due to the increased security, it took half a minute longer for them to approach and enter the bay, but once they landed there were no more delays.

Tomaxx and Cseenan emerged from the belly of their shuttle frogmarching a slightly worse for wear man between them. In spite of his beaten appearance he seemed to be vocally resistant still, thrashing against the grip on his arms, hands handcuffed in front.

“Okay, okay, I know how to walk, fellas, I—“ he cut himself off as he looked around the docking space, his eyes wide at the breadth of it and at the number of stormtroopers filing by. Kylo felt his chest swell. 

_That’s right, you ruffian. Take a good look at what the galaxy’s best kept secret has been up to. Take a look and be **very** afraid._

“I’m not so sure you _do_ know how to walk, pilot,” Kylo droned as the scruffy prisoner was brought before him. “You seem to have fallen quite a bit, judging by the marks on your face.”

“Fell into a couple fists, more like,” the man grumbled.

“He’s a chatty one,” Cseenan growled. 

The pilot made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Yeah, I guess I just, _don’t_ know when to shut up. You guys were real great conversation, by the way. Really had a great time—I’ve always enjoyed talking to walls, and your impression of a wall was just, _spot on_.”

Cseenan growled, his grip tightening, claws digging into the man’s arm, making him hiss and tense up.

“Hey, hey, hey watch the jacket!”

Kylo stepped into his personal space, the man’s backward flinch impeded by the vice-like grips on his biceps.   
  
“Where’s the droid?” Kylo demanded, enjoying the small bit of fear in the pilot’s eyes before it was smothered with another sarcastic expression.

“Funny you should ask that, because I’d like to know too. But hey, maybe if you let me go, I could find him, and then, I dunno, send you a comm or something.”

Why did these pilots always end up the wisecracking type? So full of vapid ego and ill-attempts at levity. Kylo _despised_ people like that. 

“Take him to the interrogation room,” he commanded. “We’ll see how far this bravado lasts.”

“Yes, Master,” his Knights replied in unison, only too happy to comply, beginning to drag the pilot away. 

“Ow ow ow, hey, guys, I _can walk, damnit_ —“ 

Kylo’s hands flexed and fisted again, buzzing with a chance to inflict pain and damage. Yes, he was _definitely_ going to enjoy breaking this man. 

* * *

  
After being strapped to the interrogation chair, the pilot was subjected to a session of ‘loosening’ from the interrogation droid on hand. It was routine stuff—electric shocks, injection of a mild hallucinogen followed by bouts of shrieking noises and flashing lights, finished with physical beating by a couple enthusiastic stormtroopers. 

By the time Kylo and the Knights reentered the room some time later to begin asking him questions, the pilot was ‘loosened’ enough to have lost most of his humor and quips.

Most of it. 

“I see you guys decided to finally join the party,” he groaned, blinking sweat and blood from his eyes. He looked between the three of them, somehow still giving them a challenging look with one eye almost swollen shut. “What, no party toys? Your droid sure had a fun bag.”

“We don’t need physical tools to get what we want from you,” Kylo told him smoothly. 

“Really?” He gave a humorless laugh, bloody spittle flying from his mouth. “You coulda fooled me. Why even have Nightmare Bot and the two snowflakes work on me in the first place, then?”

Tomaxx spoke up. “Because you were _very annoying_ on the shuttle.” 

“Yeah, well, what can I say. I’m a backseat driver.” He gave a bloody smirk. “Comes with the package.”

Kylo didn’t warn him before he extended his hand out, pushing into his mind. There was some resistance, even blindsided as the pilot was, but it did not last against Kylo’s power and simmering anger. 

The pilot, Poe Dameron, tensed and strained against his binds, a bulging vein in his temple from his attempts to push Kylo out. 

He was a squad leader for an X-Wing starfighter fleet. _The_ squad leader for the Resistance, and a commander evidently. 

Kylo scoffed. “I had no idea we had the galaxy’s best pilot amongst us.” He turned to his Knights. “What an honor.”  
Tomaxx tilted his head in amusement and Cseenan chuckled darkly, his claws clicking. 

Kylo pushed deeper, enjoying the strangled sound of pain it elicited from the pilot. He rifled through the surface memories, searching for information about the Resistance, about the base and it’s secret operations. 

He found very little, though. Apparently the Resistance operated on a need-to-know basis more secretive than even the First Order. The pilot had been told to retrieve something from the old man on Jakku, but had not been told what. 

“Where’s the droid?” Kylo asked, watching the man’s mind try to avoid thinking about it—a BB unit he had some affection for. 

_“C’mon Beebs, let’s check out the—“_

_“Aww, did you lose a screw, buddy? I think it—“_

_“Woo! That’s what I’m talking about, BB-8! That’s my droid—!”_

Pathetic.

But what frustrated Kylo the most was that this man, this normal, human man, was somehow _thwarting_ Kylo’s probing. It wasn’t perfect, and he was still able to see glimpses of potentially useful secrets, but the pilot was walling up his mind as if he was Force-sensitive. 

How did he know how to do that? Who could have taught—

Kylo saw the flash of an image, a woman, _that woman_ , and it sent a jolt of pain through him that he quickly smothered. 

Of course. The Princess-turned-Senator-turned-General. She must have prepared her little rebels for this. She was no Jedi Master, but she had trained some in her youth, and was given pointers by Skywalker every now and then when they saw each other. It was normal to train spies to withstand all manner of torture, but it seemed this rebel had not believed her at first when she’d warned against mental probes. 

Well, the pilot believed her now. 

Kylo could see it plain as day in the man’s mind: his shock at this ability, his guilt at not taking the General more seriously, and his gratitude for the training anyways. 

Well, Kylo would make him wish he’d paid better attention to his mother when she’d been instructing him on mental defense.

He slammed through the pilot’s thoughts, his powers so strong that the man’s head was thrown back heavily against the headrest.

“Where. Is. The. _Droid?”_ Kylo demanded.

“I….don’t…… _know,”_ Dameron ground out, teeth bared in pain and determination.

“We’re going to find it,” Kylo told him. “And we’re going to find the Resistance base. Your feeble attempts to keep me out won’t last long.”

The pilot cracked an eye open, face belying stubbornness beneath the agony.

“Wanna….bet?” 

Kylo growled, using the Force to pull the man’s head forward and then slam it back again, the rattling enough for him to break through to deeper thoughts. 

Thoughts of a much more _private_ nature. 

Apparently the Resistance’s star pilot was quite promiscuous, with _either_ gender.

Kylo sneered beneath his mask. Such lack of propriety and self restraint was disgusting. And yet, somehow he had reached the rank of Commander. His mother must truly be desperate. 

The pilot wasn’t even ashamed. He smirked through his pain.

“Good…times…”

Kylo pushed the man’s sexual history aside with a growl and tried to find the base, any glimpse of terrain or a map, anything to use as a clue towards where it could be. He could sense he was close. There was something here, the pilot was becoming more anxious, more distraught in his attempts to push Kylo out. 

Dameron’s face screwed up in effort and pain, veins bulging, and a hoarse scream erupted from his throat as he thrashed in his restraints. 

Suddenly a vivid image of a serenely smiling Leia Organa filled the pilot’s mind, and once again Kylo recoiled, physically this time, stepping back. 

_“…May the Force be with you.”_

Kylo pulled back his fist and punched the pilot across the face, once, twice, three times.

The man’s head lolled, his eyes rolling back in his head for a moment, and then fluttering open.

“Wha’wazzat’for…”

Kylo ignored him, turning to his Knights.

“Tomaxx Ren,” he growled, “If you find any relevant information on the droid or the Resistance base, I’ll consider your punishment for failing revoked. For both of you.”

The Chiss nodded, stepping forward. “Yes, Master.”

Kylo paced away, hands flexing, mind churning. 

_“May the F—“_

He stopped, freezing every muscle in his body, focusing on his breathing, on the slight stinging in his fist. Anything to clear out his mind. Anything to stop the ache in his chest. But—

_A six year old Ben Solo, tucked into bed by a mother’s gentle hands, her voice softly humming to him, kissing his forehead with a whispered, “May the Force be with you in your dreams, sweetheart.”_

_A ten year old Ben, boarding his father’s ship in bounding steps, his mother’s voice calling up after him, “Be careful sweetie, mind your father. And may the Force be with you!”_

_A thirteen year old Ben, less enthused, his father knocking his knuckles affectionately against his chin, a contrite smile on his face. “Hey, kid, chin up. You’ll be back to visit us before long. Your uncle will take good care of ya.”_

_Then his mother, hugging him tightly, quietly assuring him, “I know you’re scared. Luke will help. May the Force be with you, my little star.”_

_A twenty-two year old Ben, no longer smiling, a darkness brewing within him like a tinder-block waiting for a match, jerking back from his mother’s hand reaching to push the bangs from his eyes. She looked at him with sadness, with disappointment, with fear, as if she knew what was to come after his visit was over and he was back at the temple._

_“May the Force be with you,” she told him for the last time, face bleak, and it felt like a curse._

She had been smiling, full of hope, full of love, in the pilot’s memory. Was this man Kylo’s replacement, then? 

How many betrayals was he to relive today?

Tomaxx began speaking as he approached the pilot slowly, providing another distraction.

“If you thought my master’s style of interrogation was unpleasant,” he murmured, “you will not enjoy mine.”

Dameron panted, spitting blood. “You know,” he cleared his throat, his voice hoarse and warbling from his screaming. “I don’t feel like talking anymore. Maybe if you came back—“ his words choked off as Tomaxx began his infiltration, and the pilot did not say another coherent word for the next hour.

He fought against the Chiss’s power, but Tomaxx was far more practiced at mental dredging than Kylo, far more agile. The mental walls Dameron had built were sturdy, but not impenetrable. The Knight motioned Cseenan forward several times, who dug a taser prod—and occasionally his claws— into the man’s flesh in order to weaken his mental defenses with the pain. After an hour of this the effects of the assaults were proven too great, and with a final roll of his eyes to the back of his head, the pilot passed out.   
  
Tomaxx stepped back, lowering his arm. 

“Well?” Kylo growled.

“The planet on which the Resistance base could be stationed, is forested,” the Knight reported. “There were a number of memories with trees.”

“We’ll narrow our search, then,” Kylo mused, his mind already working through the research they’d done. Both Phu and Takodana had forests, although Phu was more mountainous where Takodana was not. 

“Anything on the droid?” He asked as Tomaxx leaned back against the counter ledge, shoulders sagging, watching Cseenan clean his claws with a flimsicloth. 

“He’s not exactly sure, Master,” the Chiss murmured, “but he has some ideas about where the droid could have gone. I only caught the vague idea, but the droid is programmed to try to get as far away as possible, then look for allies to help it find Resistance members. The good news is, it will avoid the New Republic. Apparently the Rebels are almost as wary of the current galactic authority as we are.”

“Hm,” Kylo scoffed. “They should be. Those politicians are either useless, or on our side. That droid would find no friends amongst them.”

Tomaxx dipped his head towards the unconscious prisoner. 

“What shall we do with him now, Master?”

Cseenan paused, looking up. He was masked, but Kylo knew he was probably black-eyed and hungry beneath it.

“I can get rid of him, Master,” he rasped, claws cleaned but flexing for more blood. “There would be no trace. Not a hair.”

Kylo was tempted to let the Barabel eat the man, but they might be able to glean the actual location of the Resistance baseworld from him with enough time and determination on his and Tomaxx’s part. He would let him live, for now.

“No,” he shook his head. The Knight froze, tensing, his defenses rising as he no doubt assumed his master was denying him out of more spite and anger. 

Kylo continued, “We will finish the interrogation later. We need to debrief on recent events, but if you need to feed and rest you can take time to do so. We will reconvene in the archives room after.”

Tomaxx was looking slightly fatigued—which meant he was probably _very_ fatigued— most likely having gone over a day without sleep while also using his mental properties extensively. Even Cseenan had a flagging look about him, although there still lay a buzzing jitteriness beneath it that exposed his need for food.

The Chiss spoke up, vocomodulator crackling, “A short reprieve would be appreciated, Master. I wish to be rested enough to continue searching for the base’s location.” He stood up stiffly, cracking his neck, then looked at Cseenan silently for a moment.

“Food first, I think.”

The Barabel gave a short nod, anticipation making his claws click at his sides, but then he stilled somewhat and turned to Kylo, voice steely. 

“If Master _permits.”_

“I do,” Kylo granted, feeling none of the retaliation he’d been so plagued with from before. The Knight sensed the lack of it as well, his ruffled scales laying flat.

Kylo went to the console, speaking as he navigated the request for a droid to come fix the prisoner up. “You have five hours. Eat and rest. Then we meet in the Archives room to debrief.” Afterwards he would accept Cseenan’s challenge to duel, and things would be right again between them. 

Five hours was generous, but he’d gotten barely three hours of sleep himself before the alarms had woken him. If he was to be well enough to finish the interrogation, duel Cseenan, and—hopefully—question the deserter by that time, he would need all the strength replenishment he could get.

The Knights gave a, “Yes, Master,” heads bowing. He finished sending the request and then left the room ahead of them. 

Avoiding the medbay and the problems therein—for now— he headed to his rooms intent on sleeping, but he also wanted to try meditating first. With Darth Vader’s spirit there to guide him, he wanted to use the information taken from the pilot to focus his mind and see what the Force could show him. 

They may have lost the droid and the map for now, but they would find the Resistance, and they would snuff them out. They would eradicate every last one of them, down to the roots, as if pulling out a pesky and persistent weed. 

_“May the F—“_

Kylo growled, slamming his fist into the wall of the lift, shutting the image of the woman, the sound of her voice, the feelings they elicited, all out, out _out._

_Every last one of them,_ he thought to himself. _And I’ll make sure she’s the first one to go._

* * *

  
Most of the stormtroopers and officers were being assembled in the main loading hangar for roll call and inspection. There were protocols in place to prevent all soldiers from being there, as there was still a starship to run and maintain, so they were recalled in units. As such, during the shuffle the corridors were swarming with troopers and officers, marching to and fro. And then as the inspected unit returned to their barracks or stations and the next unit fell into inspection formation in the hangar, the corridors were nearly empty, save for the few officers and troopers out quickly traveling on priority tasks.

Luckily the Archives room was on the same level as their quarters, otherwise Kylo and his Knights would have had to navigate the corridor amidst the next shuffle. Although, he doubts anyone would have obstructed their paths even if they had been on the lower levels.

The Archives room sealed shut behind them, and they settled in at the table. Kylo removed his helmet, and the others followed. 

It felt like the day they had come back from their recon mission three weeks ago. When things were different, when he and his Knights were as a well-oiled machine, with the map piece still close at hand, and Girl had been just some slave with minor Force-sensitivity.

Kylo almost wondered if everything up til now had been some sort of fever dream, and he was settling down to tell them about Girl for the first time. A redo, almost. 

But, no. He could see where Cseenan’s body had crashed into the shelf when Kylo had unleashed a fury of Force lightning at him. The mess had been cleaned up and repaired, but they all knew. They could feel the charged memory of it still, especially surrounded by Dark artifacts that had no doubt absorbed the hateful emotions.

Perhaps the Archives room had not been a wise choice.

_No matter_ , Kylo thought, brushing his hair back from his face. _We will move on._

“Tell me about Donadus,” he started, keeping himself from outwardly showing the ire he felt about them failing. He had found some balance while meditating, and the short rest he took had helped settle his mind as well. The droid being lost again was an unfortunate setback, but Tomaxx’s contacts were vast—they would find it again. And, they were now several steps closer to finding the Resistance base. 

Supreme Leader Snoke would be furious about the map, but finding and destroying the Resistance would probably make up for it. In fact, it may well be the best step towards finding the droid. With the Resistance gone, the droid would be unmoored and friendless. The First Order would blindside the New Republic next, finally rule the galaxy, and there would be nowhere for it to hide. 

There would be nowhere for Luke to hide, either.

Tomaxx and Cseenan exchanged a look, and then the Chiss began the brief. It was routine, detailed, and proved that Kylo’s Knights had done almost everything right. But in the end, fate had derailed things and the droid had disappeared amongst the chaos of another firefight with the pilot. 

The man was no match against the two Knights of Ren, though. They incapacitated him with the intent of bringing both him and the _Falcon_ back to be interrogated and destroyed, respectively, but the shipjackers had had other ideas. They’d demanded the freighter as collateral for the small amount of destruction that had occurred during the firefight—evidently one of their prize ships had caught fire. 

“Tasked with the decision to either engage in another firefight with potential long-term allies, or give up the _Falcon_ and just take the Rebel pilot, we chose the latter,” Tomaxx explained. “We came back to the _Finalizer,_ and now here we are.”

“Indeed,” Kylo voiced, frowning. He hated that Han Solo’s ship was still out there in the galaxy. He wanted it gone. Every panel, every compressor, every bolt. 

But evidently it had escaped that fate yet again. 

Kylo turned to look at Cseenan, who had remained silent for most of the recounting, except to include some details and provide agreement.

“Do you swear by this report, Cseenan Ren?”

The Barabel’s amber eyes locked on, serious and true. 

“Yes, Master. Every word. We did everything we could to snatch the droid and map piece. Cseenan—“ He twitched, teeth baring for a second, “ _…I_ …thought we should have blown the _Falcon_ to the Core and back, flay the shipjackers, and bring the pilot in pieces. But after a… _talk_ …we decided to keep the shipjackers as allies.”

Kylo nodded. “A wise decision. As much as I want that ship to stop existing, we will need all the allies we can get soon enough. The more fringe-dwelling people we can get on our side, the more deadly and efficient our strike will be, as there will be nowhere for the refugees and survivors to hide. We will have every stinking corner of the galaxy under our boots. No one will stop us, and we will exterminate every last Rebel like the insects they are.”

“Yes, Master,” the Barabel rasped, eyes showing some of the old unabashed anticipation from before. 

Tomaxx expressed the same, although it was reserved, slightly cautious. There was still one thing unspoken about yet between the three of them. 

“What information do you have about the deserter, Master?” The Chiss asked. “We went by the escape pods to see, but they had already cleaned it; Cseenan was unable to catch a scent.”

Kylo held back another sigh. Another lead lost. 

“The alarms went off around 03:00,” Kylo told them gruffly. “I went to the Bridge for information, and Hux informed me of it. At first I thought it none of my business to deal with; Hux can deal with his own infection without me. But…” Kylo looked between his Knights. “The escape pod was found with medical supplies stashed inside. I saw them, and determined they were most likely for Girl.”

Both Knights froze, a shadow falling over them as both of their tempers rose. Cseenan bristled, teeth bared. 

“So the pet tried to _escape?_ After all of—“ he snapped his teeth, claws clenched, head turned away.

“Where is she now, Master?” Tomaxx asked, expression dark. 

“She is still in the medbay,” Kylo explained, his fists creaking on the table. “When I went to confront her about it, I found her half drugged, hiding in her medroom. She insisted she had no memory of neither being drugged, nor getting out of the restraints she’d been in. But I have suspicions that she undid the restraints herself, although how she was drugged is unknown.”

“Perhaps someone tried to steal her away, off the ship?” Tomaxx pondered aloud, brow furrowing further, red eyes smoldering with his sudden outrage. “And if that’s true, how _dare_ they.”

Kylo eyed him, uttering, “I admit, your reaction to this is somewhat perplexing, given how against having her here you were just days ago.” He assumed the Chiss would jump on any reason to get rid of the slave, including accusing her of attempting to plan to run away.

“As much as I still think she’s a distraction we don’t need, Master,” Tomaxx explained, “That someone would try to steal something from you, no matter what it was, is an affront we cannot let stand. If it’s true, then it is an offense towards you, and therefore towards us. ”

“I agree,” Kylo voiced, “But there is still a chance she was involved with the planning. Which is why I need to know what you found when you infiltrated her mind.”

Cseenan looked at Tomaxx with a surprised tilt of his head. Apparently he had not been told. 

Kylo leaned forward. “Did she show signs of being aware of plans to leave?”

Tomaxx eyed him, and then his gaze drifted, going distant as he recalled what he had found in the slave girl’s mind. 

“I saw no such thing,” he said in a low voice. “In truth, her mind was….difficult to read.”

Kylo frowned. “Difficult how?”

“I found what I went in for—and I truly was as delicate as I could be, Master— but the wall she has, it’s hiding _something…_ and it…” He looked away briefly, face twitching with self-reproach. “I could not penetrate it. No matter how hard I tried. It was the strongest mental block I’ve come against,” his red eyes met Kylo’s, “except for yours. But you’ve had training. She hasn’t. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“She’s hiding something?” Cseenan growled. He looked between the two others at the table, reptilian face twisting into something deadly. “Let me have a go at her with Tomaxx, and I bet we can break her—“

“No,” Kylo said, low, but strong. His eyes flashed, but he kept his temper down. “I did not approve of Tomaxx invading her mind in the first place. There will not be a second time. She’s one of us, and we do not attack one of our own.”  
“She doesn’t sound like one of us,” Cseenan snapped. “Even if she didn’t plan it, my bet is she wouldn’t second-think it if someone offered to snatch her away from here. If someone offered her freedom.”

“We don’t know that,” Kylo argued, although he had thought the very same. He still pondered it, but he didn’t want to. 

She’d basically accepted him as her master even in spite of his illegal acquisition of her. She’d _begged_ him to let her serve him. And, they had the strange connection. If her apparent overwhelming need to serve him wasn’t enough, then surely the strange connection would compel her to stay in the end, against all else.

Right?

“She’s a slave,” the Barabel growled. “All they dream of is freedom. What slave doesn’t want freedom?”

Tomaxx stayed silent, eyes on the table as he pondered.

Kylo frowned. “Tomaxx, do you have something to add?”

The Chiss took in a thoughtful breath, letting it out slowly. 

“Some slaves cling to their subservience,” he postulated, “it’s the only thing they know and so it becomes a sort of safe place for them. From what little I could see in her mind, she is…not likely to seek out freedom on her own. I don’t think she’s involved in whatever has happened with the escape pod. But,” he paused, red eyes meeting Kylo’s unwaveringly. “I still think there’s a small chance she’s a spy, and somehow has it hidden behind the block in her mind.”

“We should root it out,” Cseenan hissed. “If we can’t do it, Supreme Leader could.”

_“No,”_ Kylo snapped, his temper rising this time. “We do not involve him in this. Do you think me not capable of finding out what it is on my own?”

“Did you check her mind?” The Barabel snapped back. 

“How do I build trust,” Kylo spat, “By dredging her mind constantly? Is that how our trust was built? Should I be looking into your minds every time I feel suspicious?”

Cseenan bared his teeth. “Why would you be suspicious of us, Master? We are your _loyal apprentices_.”

Kylo bared his teeth right back. “And yet you undermined me, _constantly,_ last week. Where was your loyalty then?”

“In the same space where your’s went,” Cseenan snarled.

Tomaxx stood suddenly, drawing their heated gazes and cutting the angry tension with the abruptness of it.

“What are you doing?” Kylo snapped.

“If you’re going to start fighting again,” the Chiss replied in a low tone, “then I suggest we move to the training room to avoid damaging anymore holochrons.”

Kylo was still in his fury for a moment, and then took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, looking to Cseenan with dulling anger. The Barabel’s scales were settling somewhat as well, chastened by the reminder of what had happened the last time they’d fought in this room. 

“Perhaps we should,” Kylo intoned. “Perhaps there _should_ be a duel.”

Cseenan’s eyes drilled into his own, intense in the seriousness of what Kylo has suggested.

A part of Kylo knew he should probably be the one to challenge Cseenan to a duel, to make amends. He had been unreasonably cruel in his anger towards the Barabel, all stemming from his own inability to overcome the scars of killing Visser Ren. 

But it felt like a weakness to do so, to admit to doing so wrong by his apprentice.

Cseenan turned to look up at Tomaxx, as if confirming that their master had indeed suggested what he thought he had. The Chiss gave a small nod, his face unreadable to Kylo but, he knew they were communicating. 

The Barabel Knight looked back at his master, scaly brow furrowed, claws flexing. 

“Master,” he rasped, “I challenge you to a duel.”

Kylo nodded. “I accept.”

* * *

  
In the training room they quietly got into form, masks on and sabers out. 

They stood across from each other stiffly, bodies tense and hearts pounding for the fight. Cseenan would make the first move, as was custom, but he was hesitating. Kylo knew, the Knight probably felt that it should be Kylo making the first move, just as it should have been Kylo to make the challenge this time. 

It made him angry and ashamed of his weaknesses, that his Knight was feeling this duel was unjust. 

But soon it didn’t matter. Cseenan made a decision, his scales rippling, a guttural snarl emitting from him as he bolted forward, brandishing his saber.

Kylo only had time to catch it in a parry when the Force was ringing out a warning felt by all of them, putting the scene on pause as they tried to interpret what it was for. 

And then they felt it: a shock and a rumble of the ship. And then a moment later a blaring alarm came.

_“Fire code, fire code, fire code, Aft supply quarter.”_

Kylo looked at Cseenan, pushing him away. The Knight allowed it without trying to attack again, standing still instead, his head turning to Tomaxx. 

“An explosion?”

“Do you think it was just a malfunction, or..?”

Kylo turned off his saber. “With everything that’s happened in the past ten hours, I think it’s something else.”  
He just hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was. He retrieved his commlink, lifting it.

“Command, report on the alarm.”

_“Lord Ren,”_ an officer replied, _“the sensors indicate an explosion in the aft supply quarter. We have emergency units en route.”_

“What was the cause of the explosion? A weapons malfunction in the supply room?”

There was calculated silence as the officer presumably conferred with his crewmates and droids on the scene.   
  
_“Milord, It appears that the explosion happened outside of the main door to the quarter. A unit will be sent in to check if anything was damaged or stolen.”_

They waited, silent and tense.

“What weapons are in there?” Cseenan asked, “Isn’t that one for heavy blasters?”

Tomaxx nodded. “Heavy artillery, yes, typically for ground vehicles or defense outposts. Not for taking on a whim. Most of those guns weigh as much as several men.” 

The officer came back on the comm.

_“It doesn’t appear that anything was stolen or damaged, sir. Just the door. We will continue to check and confirm it.”_

“Very well,” Kylo said, dismissing the call. He turned to his Knights. 

“It sounds like a diversion,” Tomaxx mused stiffly. Kylo nodded. 

“I think the same.”

“A diversion to what?” Cseenan rasped. “Another try to steal a pod?”

Tomaxx nodded. “Maybe. No one would see it coming, and most of the ship is distracted with the roll-call procedures.”

“But the pods are all being watched,” the Barabel grumbled thoughtfully. “What half-brain would try for them, with security slithering about?”

“It’s been almost eight hours,” the Chiss argued. “They could have come up with another plan, to take advantage of the confusion.” He turned to Kylo. “What do you think, Master?”

Kylo didn’t answer, merely lifted the commlink again. 

“Medbay Delta 2,” he addressed. Silence. “Medbay Delta 2,” he repeated, heart thundering.

A moment later the female medic’s voice sounded back. _“MD2, what’s your emergency?”_

“Progress report on Girl.”

There was a pause, and then, _“Sergeant Wolson took her out to deliver to you, as per your command, milord. Has he not arrived yet?”_

Kylo looked at his Knights, the tension palpable, his temper exploding within him. 

“When did they leave?” He growled. 

_“About fifteen minutes ago, sir. Maybe twenty.”_ Another pause, her voice belying stress. _“Is something wrong, sir? Have they not arrived yet?”_

“No,” he snarled. “And if I find out you let them leave without confirming with me first, you’ll be _dead.”_

He shut off the link as she tried to reply, taking steps to stand before Cseenan. 

“Cseenan Ren, what is the protocol for postponing a duel?”

He shook his head. “There are none, Master. It’s not been done. But,” he looked away for a moment, his saber turning off. “I will not put myself afore this thing. I will fight my Master when he is ready.”

Another jab, another passive attack on his priorities. But he would make it up to the Barabel.   
  
He just needed to find Girl first. And when he did, because he _would_ _find her_ , she had better have a damn good reason for following the medic out of the medbay. 

Otherwise Kylo would have to accept the fact that she was actively involved in this escape plan, actively involved in betraying him, which meant he would have no choice but to kill her. 

Because Kylo Ren was _not_ betrayed twice. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  HEEHEEHEEEEEEEEE 👁👄👁  
> 
> 
> I WONDER WHY WOLSON TOOK GIRL OUT OF THE MEDBAY
> 
> Btw did anyone google the name of chapter 42? 👀 "Leading Up the Garden Path" is an interesting American idiom 👀 👀
> 
> also,
> 
> GUYS
> 
> GUYS WE ARE  
> SO CLOSE
> 
> SO CLOSE
> 
> TO ANOTHER REALLY BIG FUCKING CHAPTER
> 
> CHAPTER 44 IS ALMOST 8,000 WORDS. *mouth breathes in unsettling excitement* 👁👄👁 heeeheeeeheeeeeeh
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey is sprung from the medbay, and finds herself at the most important crossroads of her young life....  
> And because I cannot wait, next chapter will be posted on Tuesday, July 14th at 9PM Japan time 👁👄👁


	44. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is taken from the medbay and comes to the most important and path-altering crossroads of her life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: death
> 
> *HEAVY MOUTH BREATHING*  
> HEEHEEEHEEEEH Ë̥̫̱͕̘͉̩̌͑͌͂̈̓͝N̨͈̱̗̘̹̑̓͆̏̄̎̈J̶̧̺̳̬̹͂̈́̕̕͡͝͝͞Ơ͇̫̝͂̈́̐̎́̃͒̇͜͟Y̙̰͎̺̐̊̒̈́̔̽͜Y̤̰͔̳̩̅̎͌̐̃Y̛̭̖͉̥̤̼̗͌̐̊͘Y̹̣̩̱̥͙̑͑̊͒͒̋̐̚͘͝Y̴̨̯̝̗̖͌̌̀̔͛́̔̚͞ͅY̶̹̭͔̲͆̏͊̋̈́͊͆̀͟ 👁👄👁

* * *

Rey lay in her bed some time after the initial flurry of activity from the alarm and from her perceived lying, her body now just mostly suffering a dull ache with occasional twitches. She tuned out the female medic—Officer Burg, she finally learned—as the woman readjusted and double-checked the IV line supplying her with nutrients, proteins, and calories. 

Apparently they were holding off on giving her anymore juice or broth until things settled and she was allowed out of the restraints again. She was fine with it. Getting “fed” without having to worry about the possibility of throwing up felt like a win-win to her at this point. She was just glad they were giving her anything at all, really. She knew on Jakku she would have been starved as punishment.

Compared to what Lord Ren had done to her, she honestly would have preferred starvation, though. 

Captain Ithowim checked on her once more as well, being especially surly and critical about how troublesome she was being, and where did you get the drugs from? Her answers of innocence and ignorance were unsatisfactory, of course. He gave her a strict look before leaving, conversing in low tones with Sergeant Wolson just outside the door, where she could see a soldier in white armor standing guard.

Was he there to protect her, or keep her in line? Probably the latter, considering the circumstances. She’s not sure what she could do to someone holding a blaster, though. She was just a slave. An unwell, unarmed slave girl. 

So Rey lay, wracking her brain for any detail or memory that would prove she was innocent. She was desperate to avoid being punished again, but it felt inevitable. 

There was only blank static where the memories should be. And the harder she tried, the more she doubted herself. 

And then, to make matters worse, she could feel the oppressive darkness of the Knights arriving back at the ship, which threw her into a small panic wherein she had to breathe and count the ceiling panels to avoid descending into an even darker place. 

After an hour or two she was calmed enough to get back to digging through her memories, but even with the drugs flushed from her system she still felt unconvinced of her own innocence, and the herculean effort left her _exhausted._

They had turned the lights down low again, so Rey found herself dozing in and out of sleep. Something kept waking her up, though— A buzzing feeling, a shiver across her skin. It felt like something was happening, but every time she jerked awake and looked around, she was met only with a dimly lit medroom, machines beeping quietly, the ship humming softly around her. 

The fifth or sixth time she was awoken, she stared up at the ceiling, feeling frustrated and anxious, and she was about to start counting the ceiling panels again when, a moment later, the door to her room opened. 

The light from the main area pierced the gloom, making Rey blink, and in the doorway stood the shadowy profile of the soldier in white armor. 

The soldier approached her bedside on quick feet, his gun grasped tightly in his hands. Rey shrank away as far as her cuffs would allow. 

“Wh-what’s going on?” She asked. 

He set the weapon down and took off his helmet, sweat glistening on his dark brown skin as he urged her with harried sincerity.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you. We’ve got to go.”

“Go?” Her eyes glanced to the open door, searching for anyone else. “Go where? Who are you? Did Lord Ren send you?”

“No, he absolutely did _not._ I’m trying to get us away from him.”  
  
Rey froze. “What?”

“C’mon,” he started undoing her wrist restraints. “We have to leave, _right now_.”

Who was this man? Why did he want to get them away from Lord Ren? 

“C’mon,” he repeated, tugging on her freed arms.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, scowling, pulling her arms from his grip.

He stood up straight, confusion passing over his features. 

“What? No, we’re taking you away from this place. We’re _freeing_ you.” 

Suddenly Sergeant Wolson appeared in the doorway, and Rey jolted, about to defend herself, afraid he would accuse her of getting the soldier to undue her restraints, until he whispered harshly.

“What are you doing? Hurry up!”

Rey looked at him in aghast. 

“She’s being noncompliant,” the soldier told him in a defensive tone. 

The medic finally came into the room, face more thunderous than Rey had ever seen it.

_“What?”_

Rey tucked her arms in front of her chest tighter and brought her knees up as he approached. His face changed to one much more like his usual softness as he got close.

“Girl,” he told her more gently. “We don’t have time. Let’s get you on your feet now.”

“What’s going on?” She repeated.

“We’re leaving,” he told her. She looked between the two men, her mind churning. 

“You lied,” she rasped, feeling the betrayal anew. “You lied to Lord Ren. _How…._ You told him you didn’t wake me. But you did.”

The medic sighed, looked both contrite and annoyed.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him catch me. And I’m sorry he punished you, but not getting caught was the only way we would be able to try escaping again.”

_“You_ were the one trying to take the escape pod.” She said, pieces falling into place. “You came then, just like now.”

“Yes.”

“You drugged me.”  
  
“Yes.”

She looked at him, angry and confused. _“Why?”_

He moved to take her arm. “I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s go, we don’t have time. The corridors are clear now but the next unit change for roll-call is coming up.”  
Rey hesitated, resisting, her mind half a second away from pressing the call button by her side and ending this.

He seemed to notice it as well, and he froze. He eyed her, face tightening.

“If you press that button,” he warned, “he’ll storm in here and kill you just for talking to us. Or,” he took a step closer, “he’ll torture you for hours about how you know us, how you know about the escape.”

The soldier spoke up. “Yeah, I’ve heard what he does from the other troopers. He won’t even have to touch you. He’ll dig around in your head, scrambling your mind like eggs. And then once he’s done, he’ll let the other one, Tomaxx, have a go at you. They usually take turns.”

Sergeant Wolson nodded. “And then the Barabel will tear you apart,” he said, peering closer at her. “Is that what you want?”

Rey could see it all, vividly, playing out just as they said. Her nerves still tingled slightly sometimes from what Lord Ren did to her before. And he had almost strangled her. She already knew what it felt like to have Lord Tomaxx in her mind. The thought of him doing it again made her stomach clench. And then adding Lord Cseenan…

If she went along with this escape, she was going to be complicit. It was not a decision she would be able to take back. Lord Ren was not forgiving. If he caught them he would kill her for sure. She knew she was a rotten slave, but, she didn’t want to die. 

If she stayed, she would end up punished again for sure, though. And she would probably die from it. 

This way she at least had a chance to live. 

She should go with them.

And so with a quiet, “Okay,” she pulled her hand away from the button, sliding to the edge of the bed, touching down her feet to the floor while the medic steadied her. He gently removed her lines, then threw a black jacket around her shoulders, helping her into the sleeves and buttoning it up with deft movements. It was large—likely one of his—and warm, and Rey was grateful for it.

“That looks a bit less out of place now,” he mumbled. He gave her a serious look. “We have to move quickly, alright? I’ll help support you. If you feel faint, tell me, but try to fight it. We won’t have much time to rest.”

“Okay,” she breathed, eyes wide, heart thudding. 

“We good to go?” The soldier asked.

The medic nodded to him. “Lead the way, Troop.”

The soldier put his helmet back on and grabbed his gun, peering around the doorway before motioning with his hand for them to follow as he snuck out. 

“If anyone stops us,” the medic said quietly, “I’m taking you to Lord Ren as per his order, alright?”

“Okay,” Rey panted, already becoming out of breath as they passed through the empty medbay. 

Nearly empty.

“What are you doing, sir?” Officer Burg asked, coming out of a back room. 

They stopped, and Rey tried to school her expression so it didn’t show the sudden panic she felt. 

Luckily the sergeant was apparently used to lying under pressure. He seemed to become instantly cool and collected, standing straighter. 

“Lord Ren asked that she be brought to his rooms,” he made his voice sound slightly annoyed, _“against_ my recommendation. Not sure why he couldn’t come see her here himself, but I’m not about to argue with him.”

This time Rey could tell he was lying, and wondered what had made the time before so different. 

The female medic couldn’t tell, though. 

“I wouldn’t want to, either, sir,” she agreed, frowning. “Maybe I should go with you, since I’m the medic on-duty while the others are on roll-call.” Then her face turned confused. “Why are _you_ on duty anyways? Aren’t you supposed to be at roll-call too, sir?”

“No,” he answered dryly. “I’m apparently on whatever-post-Lord-Ren-finds-most-convenient. After being called here last night, I suppose I should get used to being summoned at all hours too. I’ll just kiss my regular sleep schedule goodbye at this rate.”

The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You and me both, sarg. I haven’t been awake this far into day-cycle in months. I’ll die of lack of sleep before the war gets me.”

Rey could tell the soldier was becoming very antsy. He shifted on his feet, his grip tightening on his weapon.

“We should go,” he said lowly. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

The sergeant nodded to him, then addressed the female medic again. “I’ll come back when I’ve done being deliveryman and help you with inventory, unless you’ve got it covered?”

She gave a heavy sigh. “The help would be much appreciated, to be honest, sir. I can’t believe they want a full inventory by 13:00. It’s not like those supplies came from here!”

Sergeant Wolson gave her a sympathetic nod. “You’re right, it’s highly impossible, but the orders are from the General himself. I’ll just go and be back quickly then.”

“Yeah, thanks, sarg,” she waved him off. “Go deliver the goods. I’ll be in the back.”

He gave her a tight smile, and then they were off again, medic on one side of Rey and the soldier on the other. 

Once in the corridor Wolson spoke up, voice low. 

“You’re not goods, you hear me?” 

Rey looked up at him, brow furrowed. He glanced down at her, expression serious.

“You’re a person.”

Rey focused back on her feet, not wanting to trip, but also to avoiding answering. Nybian had tried to convince her of the same thing, but it was difficult for lessons like that to stick when you’ve been bought and sold at auction. She wasn’t a person. She was a slave. By definition she _was_ goods. 

There was hardly anyone in the corridor, and the people they did pass didn’t seem to give them a second glance, so focused on their own paths and duties. Rey tried to keep her struggling hidden, tried to seem fine so as to not draw any unnecessary attention, but she was ultimately glad when they finally stopped at an intersection. She leaned heavily against the wall, panting and pressing her hand against her aching chest.

“You okay?” The soldier asked her. She nodded wordlessly. 

“Okay, good,” he said. “I’m FN-2187, by the way.” He held out a hand.

Rey looked at it and then loosely grasped it for a small shake. It was a strange name, but then again she was not in a position to judge.

“I’m Girl.”

He gave a small nod. “Nice to finally meet you, awake and talking.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she stayed silent instead, focusing back on her breathing.

“Alright,” the soldier said, turning to Wolson. “I’ll go get the pilot, and then I’ll meet you at the docking bay.”

Wolson’s voice lowered further. “Are you sure about him?”

FN-2187 shrugged. “No, but he’s Resistance; he can take us someplace safe, where the First Order can’t find us. Plus we’ll need someone who knows how to fly a shuttle better than what they teach us in basics.”

“Are we really going for—“

“Yes. The escape pods are too risky now.”

“And stealing a shuttle isn’t?”

The soldier sighed and looked around, then pulled his helmet off again. He stepped up close to the medic, his hand reaching to cup the back of the man’s head to bring their foreheads together. 

“Hey, we’re gonna be fine, alright?” He gently assured. “We’re _so_ close. We’re gonna make it.”

The medic’s hand came up to grasp the other man in the same manner, thumb brushing beneath his ear. Something passed between their locked gazes—a sense of yearning, of hope—and Rey looked away, mildly uncomfortable to be witnessing something that felt private, and somewhat forbidden.

No one would ever look at her that way, so full of passion. She hadn’t had anything even close to it, and she probably never would. It made her sad and jealous for a second, but she pushed the feelings away. She had no right.

“Alright, Troop,” the medic whispered. “We’re gonna make it.”

The soldier gave him a shaky smile.

They separated, back into urgency-mode as FN-2187 put his helmet back on once more. He lifted what looked like a small transmitter remote.

“Ready?”

Rey looked at the device, then up at the two men, who only had eyes for each other.

“Ready,” Wolson said, nodding. “Do it.”

The soldier pressed his thumb against the trigger, and Rey felt the ship vibrate slightly beneath her. Immediately the medic grabbed up her arm again, pulling her around the corner to continue down the corridor while the soldier went the other way. 

Ten seconds later another alarm sounded.

_“Fire code, fire code, fire code, Aft supply quarter,_ ” a voice blared, and their steps quickened.

Did they just set off a _bomb?_

Rey had barely gotten her breath back, so it was becoming difficult to keep up with the medic’s hurried pace again. But even with her gasping for air, she still managed to remember to ask him.

“Why did you drug me?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, his eyes searching the corridor.

“I needed Lord Ren to leave. He was so determined to keep tormenting you, and I wasn’t sure how long he would take. I gave you a bit more than what was needed though,” he said with an apologetic glance, “which is why the romazicon made you feel so sick. It was a miscalculation on my part. But we had planned to take the escape pod, and I knew we needed to leave as soon as possible. For your sake, as well as ours, so I assumed it wouldn’t be too much of an issue. But then I got the page from Troop, and when I left to check on him the alarms sounded.” His voice lowered to a soft grumble. “Once again our plan needed revising.”

“Why?” She rasped. “Why are you leaving? Why…why do you want to take me?” She almost tripped, and he grabbed her arm to steady her, his stride barely breaking. 

His face darkened. “Because no one deserves to be enslaved, not to this horrible Order, and least of all to that monster. You’re just a child, an innocent who somehow caught the eye of the wrong man. And I may be an officer, but I am just as much a slave as you are—Every aspect of my life dictated for me since I was an infant, my mind warped by an upbringing I didn’t deserve.”

Rey’s brow furrowed. This medic who was an officer, a respected doctor….He felt like a slave? But this place seemed…it was so clean and…and it had food and _water._ How could he feel burdened by that? He had _no idea_ what it felt like to be an actual slave.

He checked an intersection before taking them around another turn, continuing in a low voice.

“Meeting Troop was…was like having my eyes opened, when I never knew they were closed to begin with.” He looked down at her, full of emotion. “We deserve to be free, to live _how_ we want and…and to be with _who_ we want. We deserve to _choose_ what we want to live and die for.”

It was almost a foreign concept, what he was suggesting. Choosing your own life and your own destiny was not something Rey had really entertained. It was too painful a reminder that ultimately, she had no choice. 

She tried to catch her breath, her feet beginning to feel heavy. 

“How long…have you been planning this?” She asked.

“Since long before you came,” he told her. “It was just going to be me and the trooper. But then he saw you taken on Jakku, and he wanted to bring you too, especially after the rumors started about how that freak was using you.” 

Rey’s heart fell. _Freak?_ He thought Lord Ren was a freak? If it was because of his powers, then she was the same. He had already called her master a monster, so she shouldn’t be so surprised. Would Sergeant Wolson treat her so kindly if he knew what she was? If he knew that she had the same freakish nature to her? Would he call her a monster too?

Unknowing of her small inner turmoil, his voice lowered further. 

“I was against it, at first, to be honest—bringing you along, I mean. We had planned things so meticulously just for us. The first time we even tried to get you, it almost blew up in ours faces as well. Troop went to Lord Ren’s room to grab you—I think it was just a couple days after you arrived—but the access key he’d found hadn’t worked to open the door. He wouldn’t leave without you, though, so we stayed and planned. And then you ended up in the medbay, and it felt like fate.” He looked down, pitying lines around his eyes. “And once I saw what Ren did to you, I knew I couldn’t leave you, either.”

Rey’s mind whirled. Sergeant Wolson and FN-2187 barely knew her, and yet they cared enough for her to do this, to risk their lives to steal her away. They both could get killed for doing this, but they felt sorry enough for her to help her anyways. 

Not even Nybian had tried to free her. The woman had treated her more kindly than anyone ever had, and probably ever would, but Rey had still been her slave, her servant.

They paused at an intersection, looking this way and that, turning another corridor. 

The medic continued, becoming slightly breathless himself. “I managed to get Troop posted to the medbay, ‘for our protection’. But it was really to pilfer supplies out and be there and ready to sneak you out at the first chance.”

“Stop, stop,” Rey panted, seeing black spots. “I need…to rest.”

They stopped, ducking into a small controls alcove. 

The medic eyed her in concern, his fingers checking her pulse on her wrist. 

“What was he doing to you?”

“W-hat?” She rasped.

“When you two were on the floor. Did he drag you from the bed to make you clean up the juice? Did you even spill it yourself?”

Rey shut her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to will the lightheadedness away. 

“I spilled the juice,” she admitted. “And I panicked. Spilled liquid on Jakku…is a death sentence,…unless you contain it right away. I was…I just, fell back into old habits. And that’s how I ended up on the floor, and…why I pulled out my lines.” She opened her eyes, imploring the man to believe her. “Lord Ren was truly just trying to calm me down. He wasn’t…he wasn’t hurting me.”

The medic made an unconvinced face. “I cannot imagine that man having a soothing bone in his entire body. Perhaps he was using his dark magic on you.” He looked away, face twisted in disgust.

“He’s a blight on the galaxy. Him and those Knights. That sort of power shouldn’t exist. Not in this day-and-age of science and technology. There’s a reason their kind are mostly died out now. I hope someone comes and finishes the job.”

Rey shut her eyes again, another crack in her heart from the harsh words. She was a blight. She was unnatural. She shouldn’t exist. 

“Are you alright to keep going?” He asked softly, hand grasping her shoulder, eyes searching her face.

She nodded, unable to speak from the whiplash of his damning words and then sudden gentle care. She felt weighed down, not only by exhaustion, but also by dread. Wolson would hate her if he knew she had Force powers. The soldier probably would, too. 

Everyone would.

_Everyone except Lord Ren._

Rey reminded herself that he was a cruel master, a shadowy, dangerous creature in a mask with immeasurable powers. 

But...he had been helping her, he had been so patient and.. and he understood this thing inside of her. He wasn’t afraid of it. He had been almost in awe, in fact.   
  
If she could be a better servant, he would maybe not have to punish her so much. Living here beneath him could be tolerable. She wouldn’t have to be so afraid of herself anymore. 

But the prospect of freedom, _true_ freedom, presented to her now, was also so, _so_ tempting. Once they were gone from here, she could make a new life somewhere, far, far away, where she wouldn’t be a slave or a witch or a blight. She’d just be….herself. 

The issue was, Rey wasn’t sure who that person was. 

They continued down more corridors, passing over bridges and new areas that had Rey looking about in wonder. She wished she’d had more time to explore everything this ship had to offer, because it was beautiful and looked full of interesting nooks and crannies to explore. But she couldn’t. Because she was leaving.

It took a moment for the bay door to open at the medic’s press—he had to take out a droid key from his side pouch in order for it to open—but once it did and the area was revealed, Rey almost gasped. 

She’d seen similar places inside the ship ruins on Jakku, but this was clean, new, and _much_ larger. There were several shuttles parked, two of which looked like they belonged to her master and his Knights by the dark look of them. The other shuttles were of similar class and style, but too flashy for her master. He was too reserved, too pious for such things. He wasn’t taken by greed or vice, and having read the Way of Ren, Rey understood more about him now. It was admirable, in a way, how disciplined he was.

Beyond the shuttles was the hangar entrance, glowing from the magnetic shield holding the ship’s atmosphere inside. And through that she could see space. Actual, _outer space._

“We’ll likely be taking that one,” Wolson murmured, drawing her attention by indicating to a sleek, slightly flashy shuttle just across the way. Instead of heading to it right away, he pulled her down towards a stack of pallets loaded with various containers just by the bay door, to hide behind them.

“Now we wait,” he said, eyes searching around, a worried pinch to his brow. 

Yes, they would wait. And once the soldier came with ‘the pilot’, they would steal the shuttle and leave. 

She could be free.

Rey felt like she should be hopeful, she should be considering actually going, she should be grateful to these men for deciding she was worth stealing so she could be free. But Rey’s mind was churning. 

If she left, would she be able to find someone else to help her with these powers? What if this was her only chance, here, with Lord Ren? What if she left, and her now ‘awakened’ abilities got out of control, and she hurt someone? Would they kill her? She was a blight, after all. She shouldn’t exist. These powers were dangerous. Unnatural. 

And so far, there had been only one person who had told her otherwise. Only one person who hadn’t made her feel lesser because of her abilities. 

A sort of calm enveloped her as she sat, her breath slowing in realization that, she may be a slave and she may be worthless and useless, but, 

she belonged here, with Lord Ren. 

He made her feel almost normal. He made her feel like she could be worth something someday. She could be worth something to _him—a_ powerful Lord, and a pious man of high ranking within a seemingly prestigious order—which was something more special than she thought she’d ever be capable of. 

She might never be an apprentice, but she could be the best damned servant he ever had. She could study, and learn how to control her powers, and could serve him even better. It didn’t even matter that his punishments were almost as bad as Vins’. It didn’t matter that he terrified her, and his Knights made her physically sick from their darkness. 

She could learn to live with it if it meant being guided to that place in her mind where the rusty dune sat on powdery white ground, where the wind blew. She could learn to block it, she could build that wall, if she just stayed and listened to her master.

Yes, her master.

Her Master.

And just like that, she knew she would stay.

It was a decision she made right as another bay door across the way closer to the shuttle opened. FN-2187 was there, half carrying a bloodied, limping man. 

Sergeant Wolson’s eyes lit up, relief melting the tension from his body. 

“Thank goodness,” he whispered, then stood and stooped to help Rey up to her feet. “Come on, quickly now. We’re almost out.”

Rey stood, allowing him to walk her forward a couple steps, and then she stopped, pulling her arm from his grasp. 

“No,” she said. 

He turned, frowning. “What?”

Rey shook her head. “I’m not going. I’m staying here.”

He looked flabbergasted. “Girl, or whatever your actual name is, we’re _this close_ ,” he motioned to the shuttle, “to freedom. _Real_ freedom. You won’t be a slave anymore. You’ll be free. Free to be whoever you want.”

“No,” she repeated, taking a small step back. 

He gave a gruff sigh, face tight, and then moved to grasp her arm in a tight grip, pulling her along. “I know you’re scared, I know it’s a strange concept, you’ve probably been a slave all your life, but this is for your own good, you’ll thank us later. Let’s _move.”_

Rey struggled against him, stumbling as he dragged her along, trying to peel his fingers back from her arm with her other hand. 

“No!” She cried out, and he pulled her close to hold a hand over her mouth, shushing her. 

“Shh! Stop!” 

She continued to thrash until he fiercely whispered, “Alright! Fine!” 

Rey relaxed a tiny bit, quieting.

He sighed. “I really didn’t want to do this, Girl, but this will help calm you down. We need to go—“ he took an injector pen from his pocket and made to push it against her thigh, but she grabbed his wrist, blocking and holding it just an inch away.

“No!” She ground out in a strained voice. “I’m not going!”

“We’re _not_ leaving you.”

Having heard the small commotion, the soldier called out to them after motioning the prisoner man up the shuttle ramp.

“You guys! What the kriff are you doing? Let’s go!”   
  
Wolson looked over his shoulder anxiously, then back at Rey with a determined set to his face. He pushed, using all of his better strength against Rey’s feebleness, and she could not hold out against the man. 

“No no nonono!” She whined as the injector pen made contact with her thigh, the needle automatically piercing her skin and injecting whatever tranquilizer it contained into the muscle. It burned, _horribly,_ making her choke back a scream. 

The fact sergeant Wolson had decided that this, just like the fallout from his lying before—one of the worst punishments she’s gotten in _years—_ was for her own good, made Rey instantly angry again. 

And with that anger, she felt it, then— the Force, bubbling up within her, filling her up, and this time she didn’t try to stop it as it moved through her and out, pulsing like a sound canon as she cried out in rage and pain, hitting the medic and throwing him back from her to tumble to a stop a good ten feet away. 

He struggled up to hands and knees, gasping for breath with an arm around his middle, looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Y-you….” He wheezed. “You’re just like…” And then his eyes fell upon something behind her, and they grew so wide it must have hurt. 

Rey looked over her shoulder, her vision wavering as the drugs travelled her system, and saw him. Lord Ren. He was flanked on either side by his Knights, bearing down the corridor towards them like death and his henchmen. 

She looked back at the medic as he stood shakily.

“Wolson!” The soldier called. 

“GO!” The man yelled, pulling a small blaster pistol from his side pouch, pointing it over Rey’s shoulder. 

“I’m not leaving without you!”

“GET ON THE SHUTTLE, TROOP!” 

He was going to shoot Lord Ren. He was going to hurt her master. 

Rey would _not_ allow that. 

Even though everything was fuzzy, and her head felt floaty, and she really wanted to sit down and just, _relax,_ she felt fear, and she felt anger, and she let the Force bubble up again, somehow almost pulling it up this time, and as the medic pulled the trigger, she threw up her hands screaming “NO!”, and the blaster shot rang out but the medic was thrown backwards once more, tumbling further, his pistol flying and skipping away.

The shot was stopped, midair, just a foot from her. He had aimed for over her shoulder, but evidently the medic was not a good marksman. It would have hit her square in the chest. 

But it was stopped. 

A black gloved hand, outstretched, appeared in her peripheral. She turned her head, slowly, everything moving so slowly, to follow it to its source. 

Lord Ren. 

He had stopped a blaster shot, midair. 

Rey looked at him in awe, amazed at his abilities. With just a flick of his wrist the plasma ricocheted off to the ceiling. 

The medic was struggling to get to his feet, coughing, falling back to his rump and blinking, dazed. 

The soldier was frantic. “WOLSON! NO! GET UP, COME ON, WOLSON!”

The medic sluggishly looked over. “Go,” he rasped, waving the soldier off. 

Lord Ren pointed to the shuttle, commanding lowly to his Knights, “Get them.”

“Yes Master,” they responded, advancing on quick feet towards the shuttle, which was beginning to power up. Their lightsabers were in hand, glowing so red, the colors reflecting so prettily against the shining durasteel floor and the flashy shuttle plating. 

Rey watched as the soldier first started moving towards Wolson, and then began backing away still crying out as the Knights bore down on him. 

Lord Ren moved past her, as if she didn’t exist, as if he hadn’t just saved her life, to stalk towards the now standing medic.

Sergeant Wolson had a resigned look on his face, standing tall with a wince. His eyes flickered to Rey.

“She’s an aberration like you,” he rasped. “That explains everything.” 

Lord Ren’s saber ignited as he stood in front of the man.

“Yes,” he sneered. “I’m sure it does, _traitor.”_ And then his saber came up, and the soldier screamed, shooting at the Knights and at Lord Ren from the shuttle ramp as it closed, and Rey gasped as time slowed and then sped up, and the saber came down, slicing a burning line through Sergeant Wolson’s torso. His body fell to the gleaming durasteel floor, where he choked and gaped for air for a moment, and then stilled, and somehow Rey could feel his life blink out of existence, pulling the breath from her.

There was a ringing in Rey’s ears and a numbness in her body that was more than just the drugs wreaking havoc as she looked down at the dead man. His eyes were sightless, the gouge in his chest smoking. Flashes of images of other bodies, mangled and smoking and bloody, filled her minds eye, and she swallowed bile, looking away. 

The shuttle was in the air now, moving towards the glowing dock entrance. She watched it, saw the blaster shots directed at it from more white soldiers appearing, saw it shoot back, the explosions making her flinch even though she could barely hear them. 

The shuttle accelerated, leaving the docking bay, jumping to lightspeed as soon as it cleared. 

She looked out, seeing the stars. So many stars. That was _space._ And it was _so much_.

“Girl.”

She slowly turned her floating head to face the voice, to answer to the electronic word. 

“Yessir,” she replied, voice hoarse. 

Lord Ren stood closer now, staring down at her silently, frigidly. His saber was still in hand, a blazing threat, but she had no fear. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling; she felt disconnected from her own feelings, there was no way she could parse out anything from anyone else. But he was probably furious.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” He asked her, voice steely, his saber hand creaking. 

Rey breathed, trying to think of a coherent answer through the fuzziness creeping up on the edges of her mind and her vision. She could still feel that dark thing, the Force, shivering beneath her skin. 

She had pushed Sergeant Wolson with it. Twice. She’d knocked the breath out of him, possibly even concussed him. And yet, her master was not looking at her with fear or derision for it. He was angry, yes, but only by her involvement in this act of betrayal. 

He accepted this thing inside her.

“He called you a freak,” she croaked. “He said you were a blight, that you shouldn’t exist.” Lord Ren stiffened, beginning to take threatening step towards her, and she quickly continued because she was not saying this right. She needed her master to understand. She needed him to know.

“They called me a freak too, on Jakku,” she admitted, bringing him to pause. “They threw stones at me. They set my projects on fire. Troog beat me for it. V-Vins—“ She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to push the trembling energy down that was brought up from the painful memories, her arms coming up to hold herself, her heading shaking. “Sergeant Wolson wouldn’t have tried to steal me away if he knew what I was.”

Rey looked out at the infinite space beyond the hangar entrance, then back at Lord Ren.

“This thing inside of me… it’s always been there, since I was a child. But now it’s…it’s _more._ It’s _awake.”_ She swallowed, voice trembling. “And I’m _afraid._ I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to control it.”

She felt like this power had the potential to tear her apart if she didn’t learn how to keep it down. It felt like more than just some strong wind; it felt like a raging storm. Could a wall hold it back? Maybe. But she couldn’t build it on her own. 

_“You_ tried to show me how. I-I’ve never….no one’s ever….” _No one’s ever helped me with this_. The gratitude she felt was overwhelming, as was the shame. She shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts, to force them into coherency.

“And I realized,” she said, heart thundering painfully, “that more than wandering the universe on my own, alone and afraid, and more than needing _freedom,_ whatever that is,….that I need someone who understands. Someone who’s not afraid of me. Someone who…someone who can show me my place in all of this, and m-maybe _teach_ me.” She took a step forward, swaying, trying to look up and focus her eyes on his visor, so he would know, so he would believe her. 

“I am a slave, and I will always be a slave, Sir. I have no delusions that I could be anything else. And whether I’m here or across the galaxy, it doesn’t matter—I belong to _you,_ Lord Ren. Not to them, not even to me. _You…_ are my master. And I know you don’t know me, I know I haven’t shown you that I deserve to be here, but….even if it takes me forever, I will prove to you that I’m worth teaching, and I will prove to you….that this is where I…” 

_belong_ . No, she didn’t belong anywhere.

“…where I _should be_.”

They stood, staring at each other, and Rey waited for him to slice her in half the way he had with the medic. She knew she should be trembling in fear, but she wasn’t. She had said her piece. She felt calm. He would kill her or he wouldn’t. She had no say in his decision.   
  
Lord Ren was silent, his mask unreadable as always, his hidden gaze burning her with veiled intensity. Rey had never felt so pinned down, so vulnerable. 

And then suddenly he commanded, _“Kneel.”_

It was only a second to process the order before she folded to her knees. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand back up, but then again, he could easily cut off her head from here. She may not get a chance to try. 

Rey could see the Knights coming, but Lord Tomaxx stopped, holding Lord Cseenan back, both of them watching from a distance. Would they see her death? Would they care? Probably not. 

Lord Ren’s saber lifted, the jagged blade coming to hover over her shoulder, the heat warming the skin of her cheek and neck. For a second she was sure he would kill her, although she found herself still serenely calm. 

But instead of ending her life, he uttered, “Swear it.”

Rey looked up at him, brow creased. 

“Swear yourself to me,” he rumbled, voice crackling.

This was no simple promise he was demanding. No _“You be a good girl, ya hear?”_ With a simple _“Yessir.”_ Promises and oaths and swearings meant differently to this master.

She felt a pressure in the air, a tension between them like a rope held taught. Her eyes lowered to the floor, in supplication, in subservience.

“Everything I am, everything I have, is yours, Lord Ren,” she said, the crackle of the blade and her hushed voice the only things she could hear. “On pain of death, I swear myself to serve you.”

He held his flaming saber steadily. The space between them was thick with an inaudible vibration. 

“There will be no more chances after this,” he told her. “From now on you must choose me, or choose death.”

“I understand, Sir,” she promised, heading bowing further. “I accept it.” 

He said nothing else, and Rey waited for him to accept her paltry offer or decide she wasn’t worth the burden, and kill her. She had never felt hope and despair in equal measures like this before. It made her chest ache, even through the drugs. 

But then his saber hissed back into the hilt, the heat and red disappearing, and he clipped it to his side, saying,

“And so you are truly my servant now.”

Rey closed her eyes in relief, her whole body flooded with a warm numbness as she stopped actively fighting it. Her limbs were like jelly. 

“Get up,” he ordered.

She took in a bolstering breath, somehow managing to get her legs beneath her and stand, although it was only by keeping her eyes to the floor and stiffening her muscles that she was able to remain balanced.

“What you have done here will have consequences, Girl,” he warned her lowly. 

“I know,” she rasped and nodded, but the motion sent her whole world off-kilter, and suddenly she was stumbling, her knees giving out and collapsing beneath her. She braced herself to hit the floor.

But she was caught by two strong arms that pulled her close, her head lolling against a solid chest, hands grasping feebly to fabric as he kneeled to lower her and control her fall.

“Is it your heart?” Lord Ren asked, electronic voice tight.

“No, Sir,” Rey breathed. “Sergeant Wolson drugged me. Again.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so kriffing tired of being drugged.”

His arms stiffened, his voice rough. _“Wolson_ gave you the flunitrazepam?”

She looked up, desperate for him to believe her this time. “Yessir. And he undid the restraints. He told me. He told me everything on the way here.”

“He lied,” Lord Ren murmured, his head turning to look at the dead man, then back down at her. “And I punished you for it.”

Her gaze lowered. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted him,” she muttered, feeling ashamed of her stupidity. “’s my fault.”

He said nothing for a moment, and then, “Girl.” 

She looked up again, vision wavering, hesitant and apprehensive. 

Lord Ren shook his head a fraction. “You should not have been punished.”

It was vindication— the closest to an apology she’d ever gotten from anyone since Nybian— and the suddenness of it made her lip quiver because, no, she didn’t deserve it, she didn’t do anything wrong, and her master knew that now. She quickly schooled her expression though, pushing down the emotions, and lowered her gaze once more.

He said nothing else, pondering quietly for a moment before moving to hook an arm beneath her legs. He stood and lifted her effortlessly, and her eyelids drooped and fluttered as she struggled to keep them open. She was not so much tired as she was just….incredibly, _incredibly_ relaxed. Boneless, and brainless. 

She knew she should try to walk, she shouldn’t burden her master this way, but he was warm. And the buzzing undercurrent within her was calmed by his steady hold. Even with the oppressive darkness of his Knights approaching, she was kept comforted. Uncaring.

“So it was the medic, and a stormtrooper,” Lord Tomaxx mused as he walked up.

“Yes,” Lord Ren’s voice rumbled, a vibration she felt along her body, and acutely where her head rested on his shoulder. 

“The pilot escaped too.”

Lord Ren breathed deeply. 

“We got enough information from him. He served his purpose.” 

His words would have sent a chill down Rey’s spine had she been in her right mind. Later, perhaps, they would haunt her. 

“And what of this one?” Lord Cseenan growled. 

Rey’s eyelids were heavy, but she managed to open them, to see the Knights standing there, staring with a bristling quality. But still, she felt no fear. They would not dare do anything to her, not in her master’s arms.

“She’s staying,” Lord Ren decreed lowly, adding, “She knows her place now.”

The Knights said nothing, accepting his word with stiff silence. 

Rey felt more tension bleed from her body. Yes, she knew her place. She’s always known, she just, got _confused_ for a moment. She wouldn’t let it happen again. She promises. She _swore_ it.

They began moving, weaving through the soldiers and officers arriving to the scene. They moved around them like sand through fingers. She barely noticed them, and didn’t care about the side eyes and double-glances she caught. It didn’t matter. 

She had her place now. That’s all that mattered.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ## YYEEEAAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> I'm so sorry but this gif has been on repeat in my mind ever since I finished this chapter, and I need you to see how I feel:  
> 
> 
> WOOOOO
> 
> Omg guys. I have been planning this since CHAPTER 13. *screams like a pterodactyl* Y̶̡͎̥̺̠͉̦͎̗̏̔͊̿̚͢͞Ë̡͓͔̳̖̰̖̰̫͍́͂̇Ę̴̨̖̼̘̏̐̒̅̓͢͞Ą͇̻̝̮̘̒̌̏̾̚͘͜Ȧ̶̡̼̙̼͛͗͛͘͢͟Ḁ̸͙͈̙̙̿̍̔͗̉̽̎̈͠H̗̻͖͍̦̤̺̓̍̂̉͐͢͞H̛̘̤̞̳̙̣̎͛͊͋͆H̢͍̳̞̞̋́͗͊̇̄͑͘H̷̢͍͔͇͎̯̐̉̆̇͆̀͟H̳͈͖͇͇̝̫̭̑͗̾̓̚͢͝͞ͅH̨̪̞̱̦̙̋͆̽͂͘͟͟͞Ḧ̵̳͖͕̭̫̑̓̀̓͜͢
> 
> ok ok, but, how did I do? It's my first time writing any sort of mystery. I didn't want it to be too easy to solve, but also not impossible. If you go back and reread from chapter 23-ish, you'll see all the little crumbs I left that point to all of this. If you're too lazy to do that but are curious about what crumbs I'm talking about, lemme know and I'll just write up a quick crumb post on my tumblr or something 😂😂😂 
> 
> HNNGGGGG omg guys, I am so fucking excited. This is a huge deal. This is basically the end of Volume 1 of this massive slow burn story. The next couple chapters will be transition into Volume 2.  
> SO. EXCITEDDD. 
> 
> I bought myself an iPad mini as a present to myself for getting this far 😂😂😂 I get it next Monday. WOO. 
> 
> Anyways, lemme know what you think!!! 🤩🤩🤩 I really love hearing from y'all. You guys are seriously the best readers, and it lights up my whole day to read your comments. ❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️😭 
> 
> Next Chapter: We get to see this whole thing from Kylo's POV.....👀  
> Posting date: Tuesday, July 21st at 9PM Japan time.


	45. Sworn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo races to find Girl and keep her from being snatched away....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings aside from character death.
> 
> Sorry I posted this a teensy bit late; I got caught up doing some stuff.
> 
> Enjooyyyyy 😁✨

* * *

Kylo Ren was an avalanche of freezing fury and compounding deadliness as he raged through the ship with his Knights in his wake, his narrow focus only on getting to the escape pods. 

If the medic somehow got past the security and stole Girl away in a pod, Kylo would stop at nothing to hunt them down across the galaxy. But he would not let it get that far. He would stop them here, now, on this ship. He would kill the medic, and if Girl seemed complicit, if she had somehow been a part of the planning of this, he’d kill her too. 

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just left her in the medbay after someone had obviously attempted to steal her away, with only a stormtrooper, a handful of medics, and (apparently easily removable) restraints to keep her secure? He should have done more. He should have put her back in his rooms. 

Although, she’d gotten out on her own before. He should have realized she could free herself from the restraints. She was stronger than she appeared.

He kept underestimating her. He needed to stop doing that. She was obviously far more trained and secure in her powers than she let on. How much of what he’d witnessed been a ruse? How much of it a lie? 

He would not be fooled twice. He would wring the truth from her like water from a rag. She would beg for mercy and he would give none. He had lost all patience with this now. He had lost all leniency.

The corridor near the aft supply quarter was beginning to become busy as crew members raced around, heading towards the explosion site or to emergency stations. Kylo turned down another way to avoid the chaos, and then stopped in his tracks. 

“Master?” Cseenan questioned, halting as well.

Kylo didn’t answer, his attention drawn down the frantic corridor, his whole body feeling dunked in cold water as he found himself being stared at,

by a ghost. 

At first he thought it was a holo, or a trick of the light. But no, it was an actual _Force ghost_ , a young boy in worn clothes, unnoticed by the simple humans running by and around him. His round face was too serious, his eyes too ancient as he stared hauntingly through Kylo’s mask, to his own gaze beyond. 

Kylo took a small step back, his hand brushing his saber. He knew Force ghosts were powerful. He’d heard enough stories from Luke and from the ancient texts he’d studied. He didn’t know who this boy was, but Kylo would not assume he was benign.

The boy did not speak, did not make any aggressive moves at all. He merely shook his head, and then lifted an arm to point down another hall, away from the pods. 

“Master? What is it?” Tomaxx prodded, his head turning to look where Kylo was staring. But it seemed neither Knights could see. And then between one blink and the next, the ghostly boy was gone. 

Kylo took in a shuddering breath, his heart pounding from more than just his brisk pace and temper. His mind raced, trying to figure out why a Force ghost would show themselves to him. Who was it? What did he want? 

Why did he point away from the pods? 

Kylo wracked his mind, searching the internal map for what could be down that way. The medbay, the auxiliary stations, some barracks, supply rooms, data banks, shuttle hangar—

The breath left him as if there was a hull breech and the vacuum of space had sucked it from his lungs. 

The medic and Girl weren’t going to the escape pods. They were going to the hangar, to—

“They’re taking a shuttle,” he said aloud, “not a pod.” Restarting his forward momentum and turning down where the boy had indicated, his pace increased to an almost jog. 

Neither Knight questioned him, merely fell into step behind his sides. 

He shouldn’t be trusting the Force ghost—they were from the Light side of the Force, and therefore they were his enemy. But there was something familiar about the boy, something that told him to take the risk and follow where he had pointed. And, the more he thought about it, the more Kylo realized that there was no way anyone could take an escape pod right now without meeting a team of armed security officers and droids first. 

The only other option for escape was a shuttle. Specifically, a shuttle in one of the only hangars not full of stormtroopers, officers, and inspectors: 

The hangar for high-ranking officers and the Knights of Ren. 

Kylo grit his teeth, his fury renewed. If they even _touched_ his shuttle, there would be no trace of them left when he was through with them. Their bodies would be an unrecognizable, bloody mess of burning wounds and dismembered limbs. 

But he was also finding himself pushing down dread. The pods were not capable of lightspeed, but the shuttles _were._ If the medic and slave made it onto one of them, they could disappear into deeper space. 

Kylo reasoned with himself that he cared only because he’d already gone through enough hassle for the slave. To have it all have been in vain would have been embarrassing. And also, he wanted to figure out what made her so special—mainly, why were they connected in the Force? He’d barely explored it. It would be a shame to lose out on investigating something so seemingly unique.

But he could not quite ignore a deeper reason, a fear—one borne of so many times in his Dead Self’s younger years when he’d raced much in the same desperate way to the family hangar: 

A fear that if Kylo failed to get there in time, Girl and the strange connection would disappear, _forever._ He would be left. _Again._

It felt like the hangar was farther than usual. Kylo kept second-guessing that he was taking the right turns, kept wondering if he wasn’t leading them down the wrong way, his agitation growing for every minute longer it took them to navigate the ship’s corridors. The only thing keeping him from breaking into a run in spite of his compounding urgency was the knowledge that he could still feel her Force presence aboard the ship, so she hadn’t disappeared yet. 

_Come on, move, go faster, don’t let them get away, don’t let her get away, run, just run—_

And then he could see it—the bay door to the hangar. It was wide open, and beyond it he could see two people in a struggle. 

It was Girl. And the medic. 

She did not appear to be cooperating, in fact, it looked like she was trying to get away. She was crying out a string of “No”s, cut off by a strangled sound of pain. They separated, and then she _shrieked_ in sudden explosive anger, the Force flaring like a flash grenade, pushing the medic away to tumble some feet away on the floor. 

The medic struggled to hands and knees, stuttering, his eyes finally catching upon the vision of death coming towards him and widening in horror. 

Girl’s head turned as well, and she once again surprised Kylo with a look of relief—a look he felt viscerally within himself— before turning back to the now standing medic.

“GO!” Wolson yelled to someone.

And then he was pointing a blaster at her. At Girl. 

Kylo started running. 

The other voice yelled back, “I’m not leaving without you!”

“GET ON THE SHUTTLE, TROOP.”

And then he pulled the trigger, and Girl screamed, “NO!” And the Force exploded out from her again, throwing the medic back even farther and knocking his blaster pistol away.   
  
In the same instance, Kylo threw up his hand to stop the blaster shot midair. For a moment he thought he’d missed it until he came around Girl’s side and could see it pinned and shuddering in the air, not a foot from her chest. 

She turned to look up at him, eyes wide, in surprise and awe, jolting slightly when he flicked his wrist and redirected the plasma towards the ceiling. 

The medic was struggling to get to his feet, coughing, falling back to his rump and blinking, dazed. Girl had done a number on him with her Force-push.

There was a trooper—the one from the medbay, _of-fucking-course_ — by Hux’s shuttle, frantically calling, “WOLSON! NO! GET UP, COME ON, WOLSON!”

The medic sluggishly looked over. “Go,” he rasped, waving the trooper off. 

_Oh,_ thought Kylo, _No one would be going **anywhere**_ **.**

He pointed to the shuttle, commanding lowly to his Knights, “Get them.”

“Yes Master,” they responded, advancing on quick feet towards the shuttle, which was beginning to power up. The trooper began to come forward as if to help the medic, but stopped and moved back as the Knights descended upon him. 

Kylo turned his attention back to Wolson, who had managed to get back on his feet, albeit with a grimace that turned to resignation as the Dark Lord approached.

“She’s an aberration like you,” he rasped, eyes flickering to Girl. “That explains everything.” 

Kylo ground his teeth, seeing that same repulsed look, hearing so many voices whispering, so many voices blatantly telling him, so many voices yelling the same thing so many times:

_You’re an aberration, there’s something wrong with that kid, you reek of darkness, he’s a freak, a monster, evil, bad, wrong—_

His saber was ignited in his fist, his blood boiling, eyes seeing red.

“Yes,” he sneered. “I’m sure it does, _traitor.”_

And then he brought his saber up, ignoring the trooper’s screaming and the blaster shots whizzing past, his only thought a burning desire to slash away this man who was _beneath_ him, whose words _didn’t matter_ , who would understand in the most terminal way just _what kind of aberration_ Kylo was, and between one moment and the next the medic’s torso showed a glowing, smoking gash, his body falling to the durasteel floor, air wheezing through burst lungs, his life evaporating with it. Dead. 

Kylo stood, breathing slowly, veins pulsing, darkness singing for more blood, more fight, more death. 

Stormtroopers began appearing, shooting at the rising shuttle that had started returning fire, the Knights using their sabers to ricochet the plasma away from them. And then the ship was out of the hangar, and then it was gone, flashing into lightspeed and disappearing into the infinite expanse of space. 

A couple TIE fighters went after it, but Kylo knew they would not return successful, if at all. 

He turned to address Girl, who was staring out at the hangar opening, a sort of awe in the slight slack of her jaw. Or maybe it was disbelief, that her only chance for freedom had just disappeared without her. 

“Girl,” he spoke, and she turned to look at him. She seemed dazed, reacting just a second too slow.

“Yessir,” she replied, voice hoarse.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” He asked her, voice steely, gripping his saber tighter. 

_“Dad, are you leaving?”_

_How many times had Ben asked that, breathless from running? How many times had Han Solo paused, a caught-out look quickly smoothed over with a disarming smile, avoidant eyes and grand gestures betraying his lies where the Force did not already ring with them?_

_“Oh, you know. Just got some business to attend to, kid. Grown-up stuff. I’ll be back before you know it.”_

_(he’s afraid of you, you’re his freak son, he’s leaving because of you)  
  
_ _And how many times had his mother, dressed in subdued finery for her senatorial trip back to the current Galactic capital, left in the early hours of the morning when she thought her son would be asleep?_

_“Mom, are you leaving?” Ben asked, still in his pajamas. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?”_

_She always gave a much more convincing show, her high-class training in deception on full display by her gentle exasperation. But Ben knew she was jarred by his appearing in the docking bay._

_“Oh, sweetheart I didn’t want to wake you. It’s so early and the call for the Senate came so suddenly. I was going to call you at a better time.”_

_(She’s afraid of you, you’re dangerous, she forgot you, you’re not important)._

_He knew she’d rather not have to call at all. He knew she would rather spend more time away at the capital than here with him._

_He learned that given a choice, people always choose the option where he wasn’t—The option containing his absence. His father ran away to seedy planets and his mother went to be with liars and manipulators, because being in the worst places in the galaxy was better than being with him._

_The day his parents told him he was being sent to Uncle Luke’s temple to train—sent away, he knew, so they wouldn’t have to see him anymore, so they wouldn’t have to suffer his anger, his loss of control, his neediness—he had seen it coming, but it didn’t mean it broke him any less._

Girl’s brows drew together, she took steady breaths, her eyes searching the air as if she wasn’t quite sure herself, _why didn’t she go with them?_

_Why did you stay?_ Kylo thought. _What the kriff compelled you to fight the man trying to free you? Was it some slave conditioning? Was it the strange connection? Are you a spy? Or an idiot?_

_Why??_

And then, 

“He called you a freak,” she croaked. “He said you were a blight, that you shouldn’t exist.” 

Kylo stiffened, a roaring beginning in his ears again and he wondered if she’d stayed behind just to insult him, if she’d stayed to tell him she thought so too so he might as well kill her, but she quickly continued, cutting off his darkening thoughts, halting his steps forward.

“They called me a freak too, on Jakku,” she told him, and he froze.

“They threw stones at me,” she further confessed. “They set my projects on fire. Troog beat me for it. V-Vins—“ She took a deep, shuddering breath, her arms coming up to hold herself, her head shaking and her face belying a deep trauma she did not want to face. 

Was this ‘Vins’ the one who broke her body as a child? Who beat a dent into her skull? Girl’s powers had no doubt been a threat to any master aware of them. Kylo understood _that_ all too well from Luke.

Her voice was hollow when she said, “Sergeant Wolson wouldn’t have tried to steal me away if he knew what I was.”

_No, he probably wouldn’t have_ , Kylo thought. But he didn’t need to say it. He didn’t need to validate this for her. He would not perpetuate her feelings of _other-_ ness _,_ not in a deprecating way.

Girl looked out at the infinite space beyond the hangar entrance, then back at Kylo, eyes wide, face almost pleading in its openness.

“This thing inside of me… it’s always been there, since I was a child. But now it’s…it’s _more._ It’s _awake.”_ She took a breath, voice trembling. “And I’m _afraid._ I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to control it.”

She looked terrified. It was no ruse, no lie. This was not a girl who had any idea what she was doing with her powers. If she’d managed to get out of his rooms herself, if she’d unlocked the restraints, she hadn’t been conscious of it. 

She’d been so horrified to learn she’d pushed him with the Force as well, the day she woke up. How could he think she was hiding her skills? She’d made it known before now that she had no idea what she was doing, to an almost dangerous degree. 

Girl went on, voice small. 

_“You_ tried to show me how. I-I’ve never…No one’s ever…” She shook her head, her emotions so jumbled he could hardly make sense of them. 

Kylo’s heart began to pound anew, a dawning sort of understanding lighting within him. He found himself holding his breath, not moving a muscle, not wanting to do anything to stop Girl from saying what he thought she was trying to say. 

“And I realized,” she continued, face slightly pained as if the vulnerability of her words was wounding, “that more than wandering the universe on my own, alone and afraid, more than needing _freedom,_ whatever that is….that I need someone who understands. Someone who’s not afraid of me. Someone who…someone who can show me my place in all of this, and m-maybe _teach_ me.”   
  
_Yes,_ he thought, a strange shiver in his chest.

She took a step forward, swaying, her eyes dazed when they looked up to meet his visor, but they steadied and solidified with her next words, her face set with earnest intention. 

“I am a slave, and I will always be a slave, Sir. I have no delusions that I could be anything else. Whether I’m here or across the galaxy, it doesn’t matter—I belong to _you,_ Lord Ren. Not to them, not even to me. _You…are_ my master. And I know you don’t know me, I know I haven’t shown you that I deserve to be here, but….even if it takes me forever, I will prove to you I’m worth teaching, and I will prove to you….that this is where I…” She paused, swallowing, taking a breath, “…where I _should be._ ”

Kylo stood stiffly, saber still crackling in his grip, a crashing sea of thoughts pounding at his mind like water on rocks.

_You can’t trust her,_ a voice whispered. _Kill her. Be done with her. Put an end to this trouble. She will find a reason to leave you eventually, and when she does she will find another way to disappear forever._

But.

Kylo searched the Force, felt the buzzing of their strange connection, so weak, but there. He looked at the slave girl, so small in the large black jacket, hair askew, eyes hollow and bloodshot, pleading, begging him once again for a place, for a purpose.

_I am a slave,_ she said. _I belong to you. You are my master. Let me prove myself. Teach me. Show me my place._

She had chosen to stay here, even after everything. She had chosen to remain a slave, over being _free._

_What a creature you are_ , he thought, bewildered—and then for some reason he was angry. _You could have been free of me, you stupid girl. Have you no self-preservation?_

Had he not damaged her enough yet? Had she not suffered under his care? Who would willingly choose to stay in a bad place surrounded by heartless, evil people, just for the smallest chance at being accepted?

_You would._

Kylo scowled. _I am not a slave. I did not choose slavery over freedom. I chose quite the opposite._

Hastily pushing those thoughts aside, he decided: If she was truly so desperate, he would give her one last chance. He would let her try to prove herself. 

He would show her her place here. And he would make sure she _stayed._

_“Kneel,”_ he commanded her, and after a breath she folded to her knees. Kylo lifted his saber, holding it over her shoulder, a threat in any other situation but she didn’t flinch, she didn’t move. She was ready to die here. 

_Of course. She has nothing left to lose._

“Swear it,” he ordered, thankful that his mask covered up the tremor he felt in his voice. “Swear yourself to me.” 

_Prove your loyalty. Prove you will stay here. Swear it._

He could feel the Force pulsing around them, something deep, something ancient. It was not unlike the feeling he had when he took the oath to be Snoke’s apprentice, but this was much different. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the area, leaving only the two of them tethered in a magnetic bind that both pulled them apart as much as pushed them together. 

Girl looked up at him, somber, eyes fathomless, knowing, and slightly apprehensive. Could she feel it too, the vibration in the Force? Was she suddenly unsure of her decision? Was she second-guessing herself on her evaluation of him? Maybe he should kill her now, to spare them both her rejection. The shivering thing in his chest would not survive her changing her mind at this point. 

And then her head bowed, her hands lax in her lap, as if in prayer.

“Everything I am, everything I have, is yours, Lord Ren,” she told him quietly, and Kylo felt as if he could have heard a pin drop in the large open space, such was the hush surrounding them. “On pain of death, I swear myself to serve you.”

He held the blade steady in spite of his pounding heart. He’s never held his arm so still before.

“There will be no more chances after this,” he warned her. “From now on you must choose me, or choose death.”

_I will not be betrayed again. You **will not** leave me. _

“I understand, Sir,” she replied, head bowing further. “I accept it.”

_Do you? Do you understand the implications of this vow? Do you truly want to be in service to **me,** or is it as Tomaxx said and you wouldn’t care who you served as long as you remained in your zone of slave familiarity? _

Only time would tell. And he decided he would give her that time. 

After another beat, Kylo turned off his lightsaber, clipping it back to his belt.

“And so you are truly my servant now,” he told her. _There is no going back. You are **mine.** _

Girl closed her eyes, her body sagging slightly where she sat. Was it in relief? Or from the weight of her decision? 

“Get up,” he ordered, and watched as she shakily stood. 

He frowned. 

She was looking sallow again, and she was panting from the effort of standing—no doubt her heart was straining from all of the ruckus, but she was also probably still feeling the effects of his Force hold on her from earlier. 

_No matter_ , he thought, feeling vindictive. There was still the fact she’d gone with the medic at all that would need to be addressed. 

“What you have done here will have consequences, Girl,” he warned her lowly. Not just for herself, but for them as a group. Word of this would get to Hux, and possibly to Snoke. They would need to tread extremely lightly moving forward. 

“I know,” she rasped, nodding, and then she was listing to the side, stumbling, her knees bending as she began to collapse. 

Kylo didn’t even think, merely reacted to catch her, kneeling to half-support her on the floor as her body turned boneless in his grasp.

_Shit._ She was probably going into cardiac arrest again. 

“Is it your heart?” He asked, already mentally calculating how long it would take for a medic to get to them if it was. 

“No, Sir,” she breathed, eyes fluttering. “Sergeant Wolson drugged me. Again.” Her eyes closed, her brow furrowed and voice grumbling, “I’m so kriffing tired of being drugged.” 

Kylo stiffened, his mind whirling with several thoughts. She was drugged right now? _Of course she is._ And,

_“Wolson_ gave you the Flunitrazepam?”

Girl opened her eyes, peering up at him and weakly grasping the front of his robes with desperate earnestness.   
  
“Yessir. And he undid the restraints. He told me. He told me everything on the way here.”

“He lied,” Kylo murmured, the implications of it dawning on him as he looked over at the dead man. Someone _lied_ to him, and he hadn’t caught it. _How?_

And then he turned his gaze down to Girl, realizing what he had done as a result of said lying. 

“And I punished you for it.” 

If he could kill the medic again, twice more even, he would. Punishments served as a deterrent for bad behavior, for failure. Arbitrary punishments were a sign of a weak leader.

He had put her in so much pain, even in spite of her current weakened state. It was amazing she could function at all. He could have killed her.

Girl’s face shuttered slightly as she looked down. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted him,” she mumbled. “’s my fault.”

And there she was again, blaming herself for something she was not at fault for. He himself had trusted the medic too. They had both been played the fool. 

Kylo’s frown deepened. He was not prone to admitting mistakes, but here with this he would tell her.

“Girl,” he prompted in a low tone, drawing her hesitant eyes up. He shook his head minutely. “You should not have been punished.” 

He would not let her continue to think he would punish her randomly as a matter of course. He was a strict master, and prone to anger, and he had very little patience for failure or insubordination, but he was not that kind of monster either. He wasn't perfect, but for the most part he believed in discipline, not abuse.  
  
Girl’s lower lip trembled, but she tightened her mouth into a thin line, eyes lowering once more, saying nothing else. 

Kylo observed her silently for a moment longer, noting her flagging strength, her drooping eyes. Determining that she was probably incapable of walking, he hooked an arm beneath her legs and lifted her as he stood. 

He turned to face Tomaxx and Cseenan as they approached. He knew they had been watching the exchange between himself and Girl, witnessing the unorthodox vow. They would have to talk about it later. 

Tomaxx spoke first, looking at the dead traitor. “So it was the medic, and a stormtrooper.”

“Yes,” Kylo confirmed. It was a failure that anyone had gotten away, but at least the medic was dead. 

“The pilot escaped too.”

Kylo took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to temper himself. He had sensed the Resistance man but had become too distracted by Wolson and Girl to put the pieces together. Had the stormtrooper and the medic been Resistance spies all along? This whole mess was becoming more and more complicated. But at least they had gotten some use from the pilot before his escape. 

“We got enough information from him,” Kylo uttered. “He served his purpose.”

They would narrow the search and find the base. And when Kylo saw Poe Dameron again, he would kill him on sight. Both him and the stormtrooper traitor. 

Cseenan Ren pointed a claw at Girl. “And what of this one?”

She stirred in his arms, but he could sense no fear from her. It was probably the drugs, keeping her calm. No wonder she had been so uncaring of his saber at her neck. 

“She’s staying,” he decreed, leaving no room for argument. “She knows her place now.”

He wasn’t sure if she would remember her sworn promise to him later, once she was fully aware of reality again. But he would not let her back out of it, even if she’d been under the influence of tranquilizers. She swore herself to him, to serve him, and he had accepted it. The Force had been involved, even. 

He would remind her, and that would be that. She was his, through and through.

There was much to be done, but for now he needed to put her in a _safe_ place, somewhere she could actually rest without threat of anything else. And then with his slave secured, he would deal with the fallout of all this chaos and quandary. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOO
> 
> Kylo's POV is quite a rollercoaster. Poor guy has some serious separation anxiety 😬
> 
> Thank you everyone who commented last chapter!! I hope you enjoyed this one as well!! We are venturing into transition chapters for Volume 2!! AHH sooooo excitinnngggg 🤩🤩🤩 
> 
> Also, summer break is finally starting here in Japan, which means I will have ALL OF THE WRITING TIME for a WHOLE MONTH 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 I'm thinking we might be going back to two chapters a week soon! (No promises, but I will try!!!) 
> 
> Also, I got my iPad and it is so beautiful omg I'm gonna draw so much stuff (when I'm not writing 😂 Y'all don't even know, if I'm not doing stuff for work or on Facebook/Tumblr, I'm writing. All other hobbies and leisure activities have been put on the back burner. All engines are go, full steam ahead for Chains, all of the time 😂 #noregrets ❤️🙌)
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo deals with the chaos and quandary....  
> Posting date: Tuesday, July 28th at 9PM Japan time


	46. Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo tries to deal with some of the fallout....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure I don't have anything worth a trigger warning, so.... enjoy! 
> 
> (if you think one is needed tho, plz let me know)

* * *

Kylo carried Girl down the corridor, ignoring the glances of the hurrying officers going by. He stopped outside the nearest lift, turning to his Knights. 

“Go to the medbay and make sure none of the other medics try to leave before security can get to them. They all need to be questioned _thoroughly._ Wolson may not have been the only one.” He had his suspicions about Captain Ithowim and would be dredging the doctor’s mind for answers as soon as possible. 

They nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Tomaxx indicated to the lax girl. “Where will you take her now? Another medbay?”

Kylo felt Girl tense slightly, proving she was still somehow awake and lucid enough to hear. 

“As if I would trust any of them anymore,” he growled, his hold on her tightening minutely at the thought. “No, I’m taking her back to my rooms. I’ll have a droid tend to her, and then I’ll deal with Hux.”

“He’s not going to be happy about his shiny shuttle,” Cseenan rasped with a no small amount of dark glee. 

“No, probably not,” Kylo agreed, also basking in the insufferable general’s misfortune. He could just imagine the unattractive shade of purple the man’s pasty skin would turn upon discovering his ship had been stolen. 

“I’ll comm you when I’m headed to the bridge,” he told the Knights, dismissing them as the lift opened.

The ride up to his level was silent at first. Kylo could feel Girl’s breathing against his hand on her ribcage, the movements slow and steady as if she was asleep.

But then, apropos of nothing, she mumbled, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

He frowned. 

“For what?” He muttered back. “Which thing are you sorry for? There are many at this point.”

She was quiet for a couple of breaths, and he wondered if she was sleep-talking. But then she replied, voice small,

“I’m sorry you have to carry me, Sir.”

Kylo had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. She worried about the most ridiculous things sometimes. 

“It would be a bigger nuisance for you to fall all over the place attempting to walk,” he explained dryly. 

They were both silent, and then he had a sudden puzzled thought. 

“How are you still awake?” 

If she’d been drugged again with Flunitrazepam, shouldn’t she be unconscious like before?

She gave a long sigh, her words mumbling further. 

“I dunno, Sir. I guess Sergeant Wolson got the dosage right this time. Not enough to put me out. Just enough to.…to make things _floaty.”_

She was absently rubbing a ripped part of his cowl between her fingers, as if the texture was interesting. As many layers of cloth as there was between her hand and his chest, the feeling was still becoming somewhat _distracting_ and Kylo was about to tell her to stop, until she suddenly stilled herself. 

Her voice turned sour, “I tried to fight him off but, I was too weak. The kriffing bastard stuck me in the thigh.”

Kylo pressed his lips into a line, then tsked, scolding under his breath, “Such language.” 

“Says the man who said ‘fuck’.”

He looked down at her, affronted at her jab, perplexed by her gall, and she tensed and ducked her head further, avoiding his gaze. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

The lift stopped, the door opened, and Kylo walked out without replying.   
  
Apparently tranquilizers loosened her lips, because he distinctly recalled her unintended comment about his being ‘so tall’ before as well. He realized it might be beneficial to question her now about what happened because she’d be less able to lie, although he doubted she would lie to him again anyways. She knew what would happen if he caught her. 

_Yes, she absolutely does, you monster._

Kylo’s jaw tensed, and he let himself feel some self reproach again for what happened earlier. 

Perhaps he would trust her this time, and let the drugs leave her system before questioning her. She deserved to be heard and given a chance to prove her trustworthiness. 

There was already a medidroid waiting outside his rooms as he walked up. Tomaxx must have sent it up the express lift, of which Kylo was grateful. At his mental push he opened the door, letting it in and entering the main room to set Girl down on the couch. 

He would arrange to have a cot brought for her to replace her now-gone blanket nest, as he had decided she would be finishing her recovery in his rooms for the foreseeable future. He would keep a medidroid here at all times if that’s what would be required, but he would not be leaving her in a medbay anymore. 

As he laid her down, she looked up at him with hooded eyes so intensely focused on his mask that he wondered if she would try to touch it the way she had his cowl, so outwardly entranced by the texture. The thought prompted him to stand quickly out of reach. A boon of his ‘tallness,’ for certain.

“How do you feel?” He asked, trying to divert his attention towards more important matters at hand. 

She blinked slowly a couple times as she seemingly digested his question. 

“I feel like I’m in a dream again,” she mumbled. 

He sighed through his nose. 

“I meant your heart.”

Her hand came up to press at her chest, her face twitching with a small wince.

“I think it aches a little,” she answered slowly, “but everything feels really numb now. It hurt earlier. And it was hard to breathe when we…when we were going so fast.”

“Hm,” he frowned. And then found himself distracted by the black jacket she was wearing. He had noticed it briefly before, but now he could see it again, and he realized it was a medic jacket. 

“Who gave you that to wear?” He asked indicating to the black fabric, his suspicions rising with his agitation.   
  
She looked down, brow furrowed as if she, too, was only just noticing it. 

“Wolson,” she answered. 

Kylo scowled, wishing he could burn away every last trace of the young medic. 

“Sit up,” he told her, moving to his bedroom while she shakily did as he said. He retrieved another one of his long sleeved shirts—and upon a glance, the blanket from his bed as well— returning to the adjacent room to see Girl rubbing her arms for warmth and looking around with a disgruntled frown. 

“Take it off,” he ordered. “The jacket. It’s evidence now.” He dropped the blanket and his shirt beside her on the couch. “Put this on over your patient clothes to cover the chill.”

She gave a raspy, “Yessir,” and started slowly undoing the fastenings.

Kylo turned away slightly and continued to speak, his arms crossed over his chest. “I have to go answer for what happened, but when I’m done I expect to hear the full story of what part you played.”

She looked up, pausing with her arms halfway out of the sleeves.

“I’ll tell you everything, Sir,” she insisted.

“Yes,” Kylo said with a hint of threat, “you _will.”_

She nodded and continued to disrobe, pushing the jacket aside and dazedly slipping the oversized black shirt on over her grey patient top. She settled it about her small frame and looked up in search for approval.   
  
Kylo nodded, the tightness in his shoulders abating somewhat. 

“Good girl.” 

She exhaled, eyes closing briefly. 

He waved the waiting medidroid over. “Let the droid do it’s work. I’ll be back. I’m sure it goes without saying that you are not to leave these rooms, and no one else is allowed in.”

“Yessir,” she mumbled, her arm already in the grasp of the droid’s blood pressure cuff. “’m too tired for another escape attempt anyways.”

Kylo froze from where he’d begun walking away and looked over his shoulder stiffly. 

“Sorry,” Girl gaped, eyes wide, hand covering her mouth. “It was a joke. The drugs… I-I’m _not—“_

He put his hand up to emphatically tell her to _stop talking_ , but she already cut herself off with a choked whine, flinching away and making the droid beep a warning from her jostling of the apparatus. 

Kylo stood still for a moment and then lowered his hand slowly. 

She had promised herself to him out of a desire to not live surrounded by fear, and yet here she was, terrified of such a small movement from him. Because of _him._ And she had chosen this over _freedom._

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she repeated, stricken face downturned. 

He didn’t say anything back, only addressing the droid when next he spoke, his voice tight. 

“FX-8, all previous orders for minimal contact to these rooms are retracted. Stay here and tend to Girl until I say otherwise. If she requires emergency attention, you can take her to any medbay aside from Delta two.”

<order received, Lord Ren.>

He gave one last look at Girl, who was now tentatively peeking up. 

“We’ll talk later,” he promised quietly. And then he turned and continue on out of the rooms, towards the express lift, taking out his commlink to update Tomaxx and Cseenan as he went.

* * *

  
Kylo arrived at the bridge just in time to see the tail-end of Hux’s apoplectic fit about his shuttle. 

“—there will _absolutely_ be serious reprimands for this! This is _unacceptable!_ ”

“Yessir,” the unfortunate messenger repeated, face tight.   
  
The general turned to the room. “Can we track it? Can we find it?”

One of the tracking officers spoke up. 

“No, sir, you—“ he cleared his throat, “…the tracker was disabled.” 

Which meant the general had ordered the tracker turned off at some point.

_The pursuit of privacy can have unintended consequences_ , Kylo thought to himself sardonically as he walked up, remembering his order with the medidroids and how it had almost killed Girl.

The general made a face likened to a child about to throw a tantrum, and then noticed the Dark Lord approaching and smoothed it out a degree.

“Lord Ren.”

“General.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ve heard the news.”

Kylo nodded. “I saw it myself, general. My _condolences_ regarding your shuttle.”

Hux turned red, his face belying disgust and embarrassment, before morphing into something mocking.

“Yes, well, I heard one of the escapees was caught. Where is the little Junk now?”

Kylo crossed his arms. “In my rooms, where she’s apparently safest.”

“She should be in the brig,” Hux spat, “chained up.” 

“She’s not the one responsible,” Kylo argued hotly. 

The general scoffed. “Oh? Did she tell you that? Typical desert rat, lying and squirming her way around her own mess.” He gave Kylo a challenging glare. “She’ll not be kept on this ship any longer.”

Kylo tensed his whole body, growling, “That’s not for _you_ to decide.”

“It’s operating under _my_ flag,” the man sneered back. 

A darkness erupted from within Kylo, his fists at his sides, static glitching on nearby screens, his voice crackling with the thunderous sound, 

“AM I JUST SOME PETTY OFFICER HERE?! Am I not Supreme Leader’s apprentice, _The Master of the Knights of Ren?!”_

The bridge was frozen with anxious silence. 

Kylo warned through grit teeth, pushing into the now uneasy man’s space, “Do not forget, General, that this ship flies under _my_ flag as well.” 

A slightly trembling voice spoke up from the comms panel. 

“General Hux, L-Lord Ren, we’re receiving a transmission from the Supremacy. It’s Supreme Leader Snoke.”

Hux had a brief glimmer of panic in his eyes before covering it up, saying, “Good, I’ll take it in the conference room,” at the same time Kylo snapped, “Open the call, _now.”_

All at once, Snoke’s deformed head glitched into supersized view above them in the center of the room. 

“General,” he growled. “I am hearing disturbing reports that there was an attempted deserter aboard the _Finalizer._ Is this true?”

Hux straightened, his face twitching into an attempt at stony poise. 

“Yes, Supreme Leader, there was indeed an attempt in the early hours of last night-cycle. But it was thwarted by our robust security—“

Kylo stepped up, droning, “Only to be reattempted, _successfully_ this time, only thirty minutes ago.” He looked up at his Master, fists clenched. “It was a stormtrooper and a medic.”

“And your slave girl,” Hux interjected. 

“They were stealing her away,” Kylo bit back. “She was not being compliant with them.”

“Oh I’m _sure,”_ Hux sneered back. 

Kylo took a threatening step toward him. “You know _nothing._ You were here while _I_ was down in the hangar, killing the medic and trying to _thwart_ their second attempt—“

“Yes, destroying the one witness to corroborate—“

“ ** _SILENCE_**.”

The bridge rattled with Snoke’s furious command. It seemed even the consoles and computers were rendered mute by the power behind it. 

Hux flinched, and Kylo tensed, head bowing. It was a moment of apprehensive quiet before the holo spoke again.

“Both of you,” the deformed Leader hissed, “To me, _now.”_

* * *

Kylo met his Knights in the corridor as they were heading towards him to the bridge. 

“Security officers came to the medbay, Master,” Tomaxx explained as he approached. “They are beginning the investigation.”

“Good. Supreme Leader has summoned me and the General,” Kylo told them, not stopping his stride. They fell into step beside him as he headed to the lift. “I will report to him about the map, but the information we got from the pilot should appease him.” _Hopefully._

This business with the desertion complicated things, and increased the risk of Snoke’s fury. But Kylo was confident it would not become anything more than a trifling matter in the grand scheme of things. 

“We should come with you,” Tomaxx said, “to report our failure ourselves.”

Kylo stopped outside the lift, turning to his Knights as he waited for it to arrive. 

“No, it is my responsibility. I will take ownership of it. If I hadn’t been distracted I could have gone with you, and perhaps we would have been successful.”

“It is not possible to know that,” Cseenan argued. “We do not fail often. We should come.”  
  
Kylo shook his head. “I want you two to stay here and keep guard.”

“You mean over the girl,” Tomaxx verified.

“Yes,” Kylo confirmed. “If someone else on the ship is Resistance, she could still be in danger.”

“You think someone would try to snatch the pet _again?”_ Cseenan questioned, perplexed.

“They’ve already tried twice,” Kylo grumbled. “I will not give them a third time.”

The lift opened and they entered it. 

“Did you speak with her about what happened?” Tomaxx asked.

“Briefly,” Kylo said. “Wolson was the one who drugged her last night, and he did it again for today’s escape, probably to make her more cooperative.”

“So she did not go willingly?” Cseenan asked, head tilted.

“Apparently not,” Kylo replied. “I still need to hear her side of the story, but it sounded like Wolson probably gave her the tranquilizer in the medbay and then used her weakened state to manipulate her into leaving with him. Somehow she found some will to fight back once they reached the hangar.” 

“She fought him through a tranq, and she swore herself to you,” Tomaxx pondered aloud. “Perhaps she is one of us after all.”

Cseenan gave a displeased growl, his claws clicking.

“Do you think otherwise, Cseenan Ren?” Kylo asked lowly.

“She’s your _slave,”_ the Barabel grumbled. “She’s not one of _us.”_

“I accepted her oath, which means she is bound to me by her vow of servitude,” Kylo reminded the Knight stiffly. “She is mine as you two are mine,” he added, leaving no room for argument. “She is a part of this enclave now, no matter her position.”

“Will you train her?” Tomaxx asked. 

Kylo thought for a moment, mouth turned down beneath his mask. 

“That is up to the will of the Supreme Leader.” 

She needed to at least be taught more control. One fifteen minute lesson on the floor of a medbay was not enough to make any lasting difference. Already she was hovering on the edges of his mind again, loud even in her drugged state. 

The Chiss nodded, promising, “In any case, she will not be harmed in your absence, Master.”

Kylo nodded at him and then turned to look at Cseenan, who gave a subtonal growl again.

“No harm,” he rasped in begrudging agreement. 

_“Good,”_ Kylo intoned, with the promise of threat. “We will pursue the lead from the pilot when I get back.”

“Yes, Master.” 

The lift opened to their floor, and they headed to Kylo’s quarters. With the wave of his hand he unlocked the door, and they were greeted with the sight of Girl curled up in a ball on the couch, wrapped in the blanket so that only the shadow of her face was visible. There were lines from the medidroid leading to her, so Kylo assumed it was monitoring her now.

Kylo felt like he should let her sleep, but he knew that if she woke up with his Knights in the room and him gone, she would probably have a fit and cause herself more damage. So with only a slight pause in his step upon entering, he walked up to her sleeping form. 

“Girl,” he said, lifting the blanket away from her head. 

She made a small noise, but did not show wakefulness but for her brow furrowing.

He crouched, “Wake up,” he droned, snapping his fingers twice in front of her face.

She twitched, her eyes cracking open, and then flinched back, waking with blinking confusion.

“Lord Ren,” she rasped, “What did—“ She noticed the Knights, and she sat up fully, holding the blanket to herself like a shield, her face losing color so quickly Kylo was worried she would faint. 

_Ah, Of course._ The last time she saw Cseenan Ren he was trying to rip her throat out, and Tomaxx had evidently mentally scarred her. It was going to take some time to smooth things out between them, which was just one more thing to add to Kylo’s list of problems to solve. 

He stood. “I have been summoned by my master,” he told her, drawing her wide gaze back. “I have to leave the ship for a short time.”

She blinked, once again taking a moment to process his words.

“Leave the ship?” She asked, voice small. “For how long?”

“For as long as my master wills it,” he told her. 

She looked even more confused, even more worried. 

Kylo motioned to his Knights, a sudden decision springing forth in his mind. “Tomaxx will stay here, for your safety.”

“My safety…” She whispered hoarsely, looking ill. 

“Yes,” Kylo replied. “And then when I get back we will talk.” He understood her trepidation; neither of his apprentices had made good impressions on her. But there was nothing to be done about the situation. He had to leave, and she needed to be watched.

She glanced at the Knights and opened her mouth to say something, but quickly pressed her lips back together, then bowed her head, nodding.

Kylo started turning back, but a tug on his robes stopped him. He looked down to see Girl’s small hand grasping the edge of the black cloth, her face showing that same look from the medbay, when she’d sought safety pressed against his leg. Once again he was taken aback by it.

She did not shutter and close herself off quite the same way this time when her mind caught up with her actions, but she did look down, releasing him and quickly pulling herself back with a whispered, “Sorry, Sir.” 

He wanted to reach a hand out to reassure her somehow, understanding all too well that look, that _fear—in_ fact it was somewhat _jarring_ to be on the opposite end of it—but he did not want her to flinch away from him again so he kept his fist at his side.

“I’ll be back,” he promised her quietly. “It won’t be long.” _I am not abandoning you._

She nodded silently again, downcast. 

After a beat Kylo continued his retreat back to the door, motioning his Knights to follow him into the corridor.

Tomaxx tilted his head at Kylo, voice low. “You spoke of me staying to guard, but left Cseenan out. What’s your plan?”

“Cseenan will come with me,” Kylo said, looking at the Barabel. He trusted Tomaxx to keep the Barabel in line most of the time, but he would not risk something happening if Cseenan were to remain with Girl for an extended amount of time, without Kylo’s supervision. He would not make that mistake twice where she and the Barabel were concerned. 

“Why?” The Knight rasped, although they all had an idea why.

“Because I said so,” Kylo replied tensely. 

The Barabel stiffened, scales rippling, but said nothing. 

“I’ll stand out in the corridor,” Tomaxx offered, “so as to not disturb the droid’s work.”

Kylo nodded. “Good. I’ll comm when we’re heading back. Shouldn’t be longer than a couple hours, factoring in wherever the Supremacy has ended up.”

“I will await your call,” The Chiss said. 

Kylo gave him a final parting nod and then, with a last glance through the open doorway at Girl—who gave another dazedly mournful look—he headed down the corridor to the lift, Cseenan Ren following in bristling silence not far behind. 

* * *

General Hux was stood by the ramp of Kylo’s shuttle, looking very displeased as the Dark Lord approached, and especially disgusted by Cseenan’s added presence. 

“I didn’t realize we were bringing bodyguards, Lord Ren,” Hux commented snidely. “I was under the impression only the two of us had been summoned.”

Kylo ascended the ramp without a word in reply to the general, not deigning to respond, although Cseenan’s snarl expressed his feelings on the matter perfectly. 

While the First Order officers began powering up the craft, Kylo seated himself in the executive chair, motioning for Cseenan to sit in the chair beside him when the Knight hesitated.

Hux stood frigidly, lip curling at the Barabel who by all accounts should not be seated where he was. But Cseenan merely growled again, and Kylo remained silent, indicating with the tilt of his head where the general should go. 

The muscle in Hux’s jaw twitched, but he turned and sat stiffly on the bench seat near the closing ramp, and Kylo took pleasure in his surly demeanor. It must sting to have lost a private shuttle, but nothing stings more than being forced to use the shuttle of someone you hate. Kylo knew if his own transport had been the one stolen, he would have used the Knight’s ship before getting on Hux’s flashy piece of flying ego. 

As the craft rose and headed out of the hangar, Kylo allowed himself one last thought of Girl, of the look of fearful longing on her face, as if she didn’t want him to leave. It was an indulgence to imagine that it was genuine and not just the result of the drugs and a very tumultuous day. If she was sober she would not show such things. She might even hate him later, for entrapping her at his side the way he had.

As they slipped into hyperspeed and the _Finalizer_ disappeared behind them, so, too, did the bright presence of Kylo’s confounding slave girl. And yet he could still feel that strange connection, faintly trembling now, like a dried leaf just barely holding onto the edges of his senses.

It relieved him so much to sense it still there that Cseenan gave him a curious tilt of his mask before Kylo was able to wall himself up again. And then, walls reestablished, he buried all dangerous thoughts of her, all indulgences, everything he could think of—deep, deep down, where not even his Master would be able to find it.

He would need all the mental clarity he could get for what lay ahead of him. 

* * *

Kylo had successfully settled his mind and organized how he would report to Supreme Leader about the map, among everything else, by the time they slowed out of hyperspeed just outside range of the _Supremacy._

General Hux was up out of his seat, standing behind the pilots as they directed the approach to the massive _Mega-_ class Star Dreadnought, a covetous glint to his icy eyes. It was no secret that the man had a particular hunger for the First Order capital ship, but it was easy to see why. 

In order to stay hidden from the New Republic (among other enemies, namely the Resistance), the First Order had eschewed establishing a base on any one planet, opting instead to have a mobile base moving around the Unknown Regions to be able to more easily avoid detection. 

The _Supremacy_ had everything a hidden army could ever want: training facilities for officers and stormtroopers, factory sectors for building ground and air vehicles, and room enough for transporting a city’s worth of crew and machinery within its hold. 

It was flanked on all sides by a fleet of _Resurgent_ -Class Star Destroyers that from this distance looked small compared to the mighty Dreadnought, but each of them was as large as the _Finalizer,_ which was no small ship. 

To call it ‘massive’ was an understatement even. The _Supremacy_ was a flying quadanium steel god of perverted creation and inconceivable death.

It was only a second or two after they appeared in sight that Kylo felt Snoke’s dark presence enveloping him like a tentacled shadow— sticky and slithering and squirming into his mind. Cseenan Ren stiffened as well, his claws scraping against the metal arms of his chair. 

_I am ice,_ Kylo whispered to himself. _Cold, unfeeling, unsinkable._

There may be some punishment for failing to acquire the map again, but they were one step closer to destroying the Resistance which, in reality, was currently the more pressing threat. He would accept the punishment and then soon be back on the _Finalizer_ to continue hunting down the Rebels and the map. 

A small squadron of TIE fighters met them as they drew within range of the _Supremacy’s_ field, but it was still several minutes before they were close enough to even see which hangar they were being directed to. 

Once docked, Kylo descended the ramp with Cseenan Ren and Hux not far behind, a crew of officers and stormtroopers standing in formation to greet them. Kylo turned to his Knight at the foot of the ramp, halting him.

“Stay with the shuttle,” he commanded lowly after Hux had passed. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“Am I not here to share in the failings, Master?” Cseenan growled. 

“No,” Kylo told him. “I will take responsibility, as I said. Stay here.”

The Barabel’s mask was unreadable, but Kylo could sense puzzlement and frustration from him. Still, he gave a small bow of his head with a gritty, “Yes, Master.”

Satisfied, Kylo turned and went after Hux, who was waving off the commanding officer that had stepped up to speak. The officer didn’t even try to say anything to Kylo outside of a sharp salute, sensing that neither men were in the mood to exchange words with anyone. They had been summoned by the Supreme Leader, and they would not make him wait. 

It was a silent ride up the express lift to Snoke’s throne room. Kylo stood stiffly, like ice, ignoring Hux who was outwardly scowling but inwardly becoming quite apprehensive. Kylo could sense the man’s mind working, churning, conniving—no doubt plotting how to turn the desertion into something less detrimental to his career prospects. 

Although, he would have nothing to worry about as a dead man if Snoke saw fit to kill him for letting a desertion happen. 

Kylo would only be so lucky. 

The lift stopped, the door opened, and the glaring red of the throne room was revealed to them. Kylo wasted no time exiting the lift, walking forward on sure feet, his gait long, robes swishing about his legs.   
  
Stationed around the room were the eight Praetorian guardsmen, their red armor glinting in the low light. Amidst them, Supreme Leader Snoke sat on his throne, watching the approaching warlords with a downwardly twisted mouth, face dark with disapproval.

Kylo stopped at a respectful distance, bending a knee and bowing his head.

“Supreme Leader,” he greeted lowly. Hux stood at attention beside, a part of him enjoying Kylo’s subservience, and another part uncomfortable, knowing he was not so intimate with the Supreme Leader. 

_“Master_ Kylo,” Snoke growled, “General Hux. I hope you have an explanation for the goings-on aboard your flagship.”

The general stiffened further in his ramrod stance. “Supreme Leader,” he began, “there were two traitors who managed to steal a shuttle and commit desertion. We are currently investigating everyone in their squadrons and sectors to weed out any others.”

Snoke’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean to imply that there are more than two faulty officers aboard your ship, general? Is two not enough? Should I be reconsidering your training program for my army?”

Hux stood straighter. “No, Supreme Leader, I believe they are the only ones. But we will be thorough in our investigation, to make sure it does not happen again. My methods are sound and my program has been, until now, impecc—”

With barely a twitch of his clawed fingers, the Dark Leader cut off the general’s throat, silencing him into a choking wheeze, but not closing off his air entirely.

“Enough,” Snoke hissed. His eyes flashed to Kylo. 

_“Master_ Kylo,” he growled, “explain to me why your slave girl was involved.”

_Ice. Cold, unfeeling, unsinkable._

“The two traitors tried to kidnap her,” Kylo droned. “The medic drugged her and took her from the medbay. She was not complicit in their schemes.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader. She has sworn herself to serve me, and I felt no deception in her oath. She did not intend to leave the ship.”

“How fortuitous, that you found the one slave in the entire galaxy who would choose to follow _you,_ over certain freedom,” Snoke sneered. 

Kylo breathed through the jab, pushing away the insecurities it brought up. 

“And the medic?” Snoke growled. “You killed him?”

“Yes,” Kylo looked up. “I struck him down for his treason.”

“But,” Hux hoarsely ground out, his throat released, “the stormtrooper and the prisoner got away.”

“In _your_ shuttle,” Kylo bit back.

“Prisoner?” Snoke hissed, his eyes boring into Hux. “What prisoner?”

Kylo realized he was going to have to confess about the map now. He took a steadying breath, clenching his fists.

“My Knights went after a lead for the map piece. They came into conflict with a Resistance pilot, a commander for their rabble, and brought him back to the _Finalizer_ to be interrogated for information about the Resistance base. We found—”  
  
“And the map?” Snoke interjected with darkening tone. 

_Ice_. 

“It slipped our grasp, but it’s only a matter of time before we find it again. And we pulled information vital for the search of the Resistance base from the pilot.”

“I’m surprised your Knights brought back anything worthwhile at all,” Hux griped. “What with everything that has been occurring as of late.”

Snoke’s disfigured cheek twitched as his face turned stormy, his words slow and deadly. 

_“What_ do you mean by that, General?”

Hux straightened his coat, giving Kylo a darkly spiteful look.

Kylo sucked in air, his skin breaking out in a sweat, heart turning to lead in his stomach. He should have known. He should have realized Hux had not told Snoke of recent goings-on earlier in order to capitalize on it.

_You fucking snake._

The general turned to address the deformed ruler.

“Supreme Leader, it seems that ever since the slave girl arrived on the ship, Lord Ren and his Knights have fallen into disarray.”

Crooked teeth were bared, the temperature dropping in the sizable room as Snoke grit out,

“ _Explain_.”

Kylo opened his mouth to speak, but Snoke cut him off.

_“Not_ you.”

After a beat Hux took a step forward, motioning to Kylo stiffly. 

“Lord Ren has been particularly temperamental, destroying equipment and entire units of our droids. Engineering has been trying to salvage parts, but most of them will have to be either thrown out or completely rebuilt. Not only that, but the slave was less than compliant at first aboard the ship, seemingly starving herself in rebellion against her situation and wasting valuable food resources.”

Kylo stood, fists shaking. “That’s _not—“_

“And _then,”_ Hux continued, louder, “It appeared that Lord Ren was incapable of holding himself to his pious standards, by the _peculiar wounds_ found on her body after she collapsed and was sent to a medbay, where she wasted even _more_ valuable resources by requiring a week in a bacta tank in order to survive. Meanwhile Lord Ren’s Barabel was wreaking havoc on the ship, attacking stormtroopers—“

“They called him a _shorttail,”_ Kylo hotly contested, “We all know what that does to them—“

“Aren’t you lot supposed to be _disciplined?”_ Hux sneered back.

“I _will not_ be spoken to about discipline from a man who can’t keep his soldiers from committing _treason,”_ Kylo spat. 

_“Silence,”_ Snoke commanded, his voice a deadly whisper, but it felt more powerful and threatening than a booming yell.

The throne room fell into heated quiet, Kylo shaking from contained anger and dread, Hux breathing through flared nostrils, hatefully meeting Kylo’s challenging stance.

“General Hux,” Snoke said in the same threateningly quiet way, “my confidence in your abilities to lead this operation is waning. If these disruptions continue, _I will find someone better suited for the role_. That a Resistance member has managed to get away with one of your troops, on a shuttle no-doubt carrying _sensitive information_ , is an unacceptable deficiency of your _impeccable_ program, and a negligence of your rank. You are dismissed back to the _Finalizer_ until I decide a recourse of action.”   
  
Hux blanched, his jaw showing a tic that he tried to hide as he faced the imposing Master. 

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” he conceded hoarsely.

And then with one parting smirk at Kylo, the pasty man turned and walked back to the lift.

When he was gone, Kylo moved to kneel again but was stopped by Snoke’s hissed words.

“Do _not.”_

Kylo aborted the motion, standing straight again, his heart thundering, his mind working to keep himself calm, controlled. 

“Supreme Leader,” he started through grit teeth. “I—“

There was no warning as the enthroned ruler pierced Kylo’s body with his dark power, a feeling like a drill boring into his skull as the Master threw away all pretenses of care in his infiltration of Kylo’s mind, filling his whole being with pain.

Kylo’s jaw ground his teeth in agony as he tried to keep from screaming. 

“You _lied_ to me, Young Kylo,” Snoke uttered with hissing fury. “Apparently letting you keep the slave girl had been a mistake. It will be corrected _promptly.”_

“N-no, Supreme Leader,” Kylo choked out. “She is not—“

He did cry out this time as Snoke flicked his fingers and the pain in Kylo’s body grew threefold, every nerve on his body firing pain signals as if he was being stung by millions of poison-tipped needles. It lessened after five seconds, but only just.

“She’s not _what?_ Not a distraction? Do you think me _stupid,_ boy? I can _feel_ how the Force has shifted, I can _sense_ that there was an awakening. I know you had a hand in it and you wish to train her as a Knight. But for your lying, for your attempted cover up of her influence on you, she will _never become a Knight of Ren_.”

Kylo knew his mask was not enough to hide his dismay.

“You will _not_ train her as such,” Snoke continued, expression spiteful and raw in his anger. “You will bind her powers, teach her only how to cut herself off from the Force, and treat her _only as a slave_. If you even _think_ about anything to the contrary, I will strip you of your Knights as well. This lying _will not be tolerated_.”

“And not only that,” the Master growled, standing, “but you failed, _again,_ to procure the map. I warned you before that you would know my disappointment should you not succeed. And so you _will know it now._ ”

Blue lightning shot from the tips of Snoke’s fingers, hitting Kylo full-on, filling his whole world with pain and fire and uncontrolled seizing. He was struck to the ground where he screamed, and screamed, and screamed, the pain never ending, the power coursing through him shredding what little control over his emotions and mental faculties he had left. 

It continued until all he knew was pain, until the red of the throne room disappeared, and all that was left was torturous suffering, and then, when it became too much, when he reached the limits of his trained endurance to this form of punishment, even the pain faded away and all that he had left was numb blackness. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> WOOPS 😬
> 
> That sneaky snake Hux, holding in all the shit in order to firebomb Kylo before pushing him under the bus. I'm curious if anyone anticipated something like this happening 🧐 Kylo was suspicious before, but I'm not sure he expected something like this....😬😬😬 
> 
> Volume 2 is now in session! 🤩 
> 
> I've been trying to write as much as possible, although the past two days I was busy scrambling around trying to get paperwork together to extend my visa so I don't get deported 🙃 wooops I almost let that happen my visa expires this thursday hahaaaaa  But luckily I drove (2 hours) to the immigration office today and got it extended! Yayyyyyy Veggie gets to keep her job in Japan for another year and avoid the dystopian hellscape of America for a little bit longer🙃 🙃 🙃 🙃 
> 
> Anyways, next chapter: We see Lord Ren leave from Rey's POV, and with Tomaxx there, things are not so great...  
> It will be posted Saturday, August 1st, 9PM Japan time. (btw this Friday is my beta's birthday! 🥳 )


	47. A Bad Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey gets carried back to the rooms, has a strange dream, and gets a Bad Feeling....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👉👉👉Trigger warning👈👈👈
> 
> Rey experiences some tumultuous feelings with Tomaxx being so close. She is, effectively, triggered by him. Not sure if this deserves a tw but I wanted to put one in place anyways.   
> Read safely, my luvs ❤️

* * *

Everything was a haze for Rey—the grey corridors, the lift, the sounds and lights and thoughts. Her skin was numb, and yet there was a weird echo of sensation, as if she was a bell that vibrated silently when touched. 

She could feel every point of contact between her and Lord Ren—his gloved hands at her ribcage and knees, his torso along her entire side. She thought she could even feel his heartbeat, his steady breathing, and there was something entrancing about it. 

His black robes were somewhat soft beneath her cheek, but his cowl was scratchy and jagged where it was ripped and torn. From a fight maybe. Her master was a fighter. He was deadly. 

He’d killed Sergeant Wolson. Lord Ren was a murderer. She should be scared.

But he had accepted her vow. He had accepted her paltry offer of servitude, and he was carrying her now, his deadly hands holding her with firm gentleness. She should apologize for needing to be carried at all. If she’d been stronger, maybe she could have stopped Wolson from jabbing her. 

Words were hard to come by for some reason, though, and her mind kept drifting, kept getting distracted by the tiny vibrations in the bones of her hand from the ripped cowl. _So scratchy_. Lord Ren wore so many layers of clothing. Rey was jealous; no wonder he was so warm. 

The drugs were doing a number on her usual filter, and she actually swore in front of her master. She actually said _‘fuck’_. The horror and shame was slow to rise, but at least she had the wherewithal to duck her head and apologize. She’d apologize again later, if she remembered. 

The grey of the walls smeared by as they exited the lift and drifted down the hall, and then a door opened with a gust of freezing air, and everything was bright, and then Rey was lowered onto cushions, her gaze caught on her master’s strange and mesmerizing mask. Why did it have so many silver lines? Was his mask cold, like his rooms, or warm, like his body? 

_Are you ugly_ , she wanted to ask, _is that why you cover yourself so much?_

He stood, so tall. He was one of the tallest people she’d ever seen. 

He was asking her something. 

“How do you feel?” The words drifted to her, working their way into her understanding. 

Rey blinked slowly, floating, absently watching the walls sway. 

“I feel like I’m in a dream again,” she mumbled.

“I meant your heart,” Lord Ren rumbled. 

Oh. She reached up to press a hand to her chest, as if she could sink it down, down into herself and feel her heart against her palm. Almost on cue there was a slight pang, and her face twitched with a wince. 

“I think it aches a little,” she told him, “but everything feels really numb now.” Her mouth was dry. Her tongue felt heavy. “It hurt earlier. And it was hard to breathe when we…when we were going so fast.” _Escaping. When we were escaping._

_No,_ she had been taken. Sergeant Wolson and the soldier were escaping. Escaped. There was no escape for Rey. There never was, and never would be. 

Lord Ren hummed an electric noise of thought, his mask scanning her. She almost felt it, his gaze weighted in its hiddenness, dragging across her boneless body laid out on the couch. 

“Who gave you that to wear?” He asked, indicating to her vaguely. 

Rey frowned, looking down, wondering what he was talking about, ready to point out that the medics had dressed her, didn’t he know? But she realized she wasn’t just wearing the grey patient top. She was still wearing Sergeant Wolson’s black jacket. A dead man’s jacket. 

“Wolson,” she finally managed to answer, a discomfort rising at the realization.

He paused, and then growled, “Sit up,” before turning to disappear into his bedroom. 

Rey shakily obeyed, breathing through her pounding heart and lightheadedness. The chill of the rooms had seeped into her clothes, making her shiver. She rubbed her arms, looking around her. These damn rooms again. 

“Take it off,” her master ordered as he came back holding things. “The jacket. It’s evidence now.” 

Evidence? Oh, right, desertion was a crime. And she’d been partially complicit. Plus, it was a dead man’s jacket. She did not need to be told twice to remove it.

He dropped the things beside her on the couch.   
  
“Put this on over your patient clothes to cover the chill.”

She rasped a “Yessir,” thankful she would not be subjected to the freezing temperatures for too long, and slowly started undoing the fastenings. They were tricky, and her fingers were numb and hard to control, but she managed it. It would have been embarrassing if Lord Ren had to help her with it, so she put more effort into it. 

“I have to go answer for what happened,” he told her as she finally got the jacket opened, “but when I’m done I expect to hear the full story of what part you played.”

Rey looked up, vision wavering, arms halfway out of the sleeves.

“I’ll tell you everything, Sir,” she insisted in spite of her floating head. She had made a vow, and she would honor it.

“Yes, you _will_ ,” Lord Ren said, a hint of threat in the crackle of his voice. 

Rey nodded. She’s not sure if she’d be able to coherently tell her story now, but later she could. And she would tell him everything, even if that meant admitting that she’d gone with the medic willingly at first. She would take the punishment. 

Pulling her arms out of the sleeves took some brain power, but once she had it off and pushed to the side, she was able to focus on putting on the black shirt he’d brought her. It was so soft beneath her hands, but she didn’t dawdle, slipping it on over her head and patient top, settling it about her torso in a daze. The neckline was so wide it almost slipped off her shoulders. She looked up, hoping Lord Ren would approve of her obedience, hoping he would be pleased with how his clothes fell about her bony frame. 

Her master nodded, an air of favor in the low rumble of his praise,

“Good girl.”

Rey felt a warm rush, her breath escaping from where she’d been apparently holding it, her eyes drooping closed from the sensation. Master was happy, which meant Rey was happy.

The medidroid rolled over at his beckoning.

“Let the droid do its work. I’ll be back. I’m sure it goes without saying that you are not to leave these rooms, and no one else is allowed in,” he told her. 

Back to being left in the rooms again. Rey understood why, but it still made her scowl.

“Yessir,” she mumbled, letting the droid cuff her arm to check her blood pressure. _I’m too tired for another escape attempt anyways,_ she thought sardonically, and Lord Ren halted, turning stiffly to look at her over his shoulder, and she realized she had apparently _not_ thought that in her mind, she’d said it _out loud_. 

“Sorry,” she sputtered, her free hand covering her mouth, a small amount of anxiousness piercing through the fog of her mind. “It was a joke,” she insisted. “The drugs…I-I’m _not—“_

And then Lord Ren’s hand came up and Rey cut herself off with a choked whine, flinching back so hard the droid beeped a warning at her, but who cares about kriffing blood pressure when her master was about to fill her with _pain—_

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she pleaded, eyes down on her clenched fist in her lap. How could she say something like that? Now, of all times? To _Lord Ren_ , of all people?? She was so stupid. Stupid drugs, stupid slave, stupid _idiot._

But no pain came. 

“FX-8,” Lord Ren said with a crackle of voice, “all previous orders for minimal contact to these rooms are retracted. Stay here and tend to Girl until I say otherwise. If she requires emergency attention, you can take her to any medbay aside from Delta two.”

<order received, Lord Ren> the droid chimed.

Rey looked up tentatively, but her master did not seem to be ready to punish her again. Perhaps he had just wanted to frighten her, to remind her of what he was capable of. She needed to watch her mouth better. Drugs or no drugs, there was no excuse. 

“We’ll talk later,” he promised her in a low voice, and Rey couldn’t tell if it was meant to be threatening or not. She gave a barely audible acknowledgment, and then her master was walking away, out of the rooms, the door shutting behind him. 

_Left alone in these damned rooms again._

_But,_ Rey reasoned as the droid restarted the blood pressure test, _at least I’m not restrained. Or dead._

She let the medidroid run its tests and checks, not even wincing from the pinch of another IV. Her veins must be full of holes now. How she had any blood where it was supposed to be was beyond her. 

With a heart rate monitor clipped to her wrist, the jacket folded on the arm of the couch, and the blanket wrapped all around her, Rey curled up on her side. It did not take her long to fall asleep, her slumber blessedly dream-free. 

She wasn’t sure how long she was out for, but she could hear something, someone calling to her.

Cold air drafted about her head, light piercing through her closed eyelids. She made a small noise of acknowledgment, but her brain was already drifting back into unconsciousness, drowning out the noise and light—

“Wake up,” a robotic voice said, accompanied by two loud snaps.

Rey flinched, eyelids almost too heavy to open, but as soon as the signals from her retinas reached her brain she was jolting back, waking with blinking confusion and alertness at her master’s large crouching form next to her. 

“Lord Ren,” she said, voice thick from sleep, “What did—“ and then she noticed the extra amount of darkness in the air, the extra chill, her eyes sliding to the side to confirm that, yes, the two deadly apprentices were also in the room with them. 

Rey sat up fully, pulling the blanket tighter around her, but she knew it would not shield her from them in any capacity. She felt lightheaded, the drugs in her system no match for the amount of trepidation and fear she had bubbling up within her. 

Lord Ren stood.

“I have been summoned by my master,” he told her, his words and movement drawing her attention back. “I have to leave the ship for a short time.”

Rey blinked, the words not quite sinking in. 

“Leave the ship?” She asked, her heart plummeting, skin prickling. “For how long?”

“For as long as my master wills it,” he replied vaguely, and Rey felt a cold sweat break out. 

Lord Ren motioned to his Knights. “Tomaxx will stay here, for your safety.”

_Oh, Maker, no. Please no._

“My safety…” Rey repeated hoarsely, her sinking heart turning into lead in her stomach. 

“Yes. And then when I get back we will talk.” 

Rey dared to glance at the Knights, feeling sick from the weight of their dark gazes on her. 

_Is this a punishment for what I said earlier?_ She wanted to ask, but stopped herself. _Don’t say anything to make things worse, stupid._

She nodded, accepting that Lord Ren was leaving the ship to see his master. She understood that he could not refuse such a summons, as she herself would not. 

But as soon as he began turning away, all at once Rey was back on Jakku, five years old and being left behind with someone who did not have her best interests at heart. Her hand shot out, grasping his robes, halting him. 

Lord Ren looked down at her, and distantly in her mind she knew she should be slapped, but still, she couldn’t help wanting to plead with him, the words stuck on the tip of her tongue, _I don’t want you to go. Please don’t leave me. Please take me with you. I’ll be good, I promise._

But she kept her mouth shut, pulling back her traitorous hand quickly with a small, “Sorry, Sir,” admonishing herself for even that. She would be so glad once the tranquilizer was gone from her mind. She had even less self control now. Lord Ren deserved better. 

He did not scold her, however. His voice was quiet, almost reassuring when he spoke. 

“I’ll be back,” he rumbled. “It won’t be long.”

Rey nodded again, Feeling that his words were true. He intended to come back. She would trust his word on that. 

Her pleading words continued to ricochet in her mind, however, still threatening to blurt out even as Lord Ren stood in the doorway conversing in hushed tones with his Knights. She’d sworn herself to him, hadn’t she? And he’d accepted. Why was he going away? Why was he leaving her behind?

Her chest ached from the tightness, the cold sweat making her shiver, her stomach cramping. Her gaze moved to Lord Tomaxx, and she hugged herself tighter. She would try to sleep during her master’s absence, half because she was exhausted and half to make the time go by faster, but she had a feeling rest would not be coming easy to her. Not with the Knight’s oily darkness making her feel sick to her bones. Not when he could slide into her mind again.

And then Lord Ren gave her a final, unreadable parting look, and disappeared from the doorway with Lord Cseenan following, leaving just her and Lord Tomaxx.

Said apprentice turned to stare back at Rey after a minute, and she shivered again, her heart thumping, her skin crawling. 

Her mind was a fog, everything still numb and slightly wavy, but the adrenaline coursing her veins still made room for a litany of anxious thoughts. Would Lord Tomaxx wait for their master to leave the ship before attacking her? Or would he just go for it now? Rey dazedly calculated the possibility of making it to the ‘fresher before he got to her, but her body still felt like jelly, and she knew deep down that even if she managed to stumble to the other room, no physical barrier even such as a durasteel door could keep out the kind of attack the Knight was capable of. How do you stop someone from invading your mind?

The medidroid beeped a warning about her heart rate, and Rey realized that even if she wanted to run, she’d have to untangle herself from the droid in order to do so. There would be no time. Lord Tomaxx would get to her before she could even try.

But then, just when she was sure he would enter the rooms again and do whatever horrible thing he did to her mind before, the apprentice made a waving motion with his hand and the door hissed shut, closing her inside and himself out. 

Rey sat still for a moment, two moments, not moving, barely breathing, confused and sick. But the door did not open again. Lord Tomaxx was still there, his greasy shadow coating the air and making Rey’s skin writhe, but it seemed he was intending to stand guard in the corridor. 

Fine by her. 

She sat, wrapped tightly in the blanket and staring restlessly at the door for about ten minutes. And then she felt Lord Ren’s cold presence disappear entirely, and Rey gasped, not having realized just how used to his coldness she’d gotten. She felt bereft without it. Bereft, and something else that was gut-wrenching. 

She was so certain, so sure that Lord Tomaxx would come now, that the door would open and he would silently walk in, pin her to the couch with the Force and push into her mind. She trembled, her chest tight, tears in her eyes, swallowing bile, dreading the inevitable, and it felt like for every passing moment the door stayed closed, her anxiety only rose. 

Was he playing mind games? Was he just going to wait until the drugs lulled her to sleep, and then come in? She didn’t trust him. She’d never trust him. 

Rey breathed, deep breaths, trying to count, trying to calm herself, because the last thing she wanted was to have a heart issue while alone. But she couldn’t help her shaking—tremors and shudders from adrenaline, from exhaustion, from the cold, from _everything_ just suddenly falling upon her, all at once. She had not had a moment of peace since she arrived on this ship. And now her master was gone, and she had no idea when he would be back, or if he would be back, because she never got to prove her worth to him, she never got to prove she could be useful. 

Lord Ren left because of her. Yes, he was summoned, but probably because of her involvement in the desertion. 

If he decided she should be punished when he got back, she would not fight it. She just hoped he came back. 

After a short while Rey lay back down, tranquilizer-exacerbated exhaustion weighing her down until not even the disgusting sludge of Lord Tomaxx’s presence was enough to keep her awake. 

* * *

  
Rey dreamed she was on a starship with sand-dusted floors and walls of reddish rock, cracked through in places to show gleaming grey durasteel beneath. It was a strange ship to be sure, but she felt comforted by the rough stone. It reminded her of home. 

Everything was swaying lightly, the stone moving sometimes in such a way that it almost seemed like the walls were breathing. It should have made her uncomfortable, but again she only felt calmed by it. The air was abuzz with an inaudible electric vibration, making her skin tingle, but this, too, was calming. Familiar, almost. 

Rey walked, realizing very quickly she was in another maze, another labyrinth. She was tired of always feeling lost, but she knew if she could just find whatever lay at the end of it all, whatever or whoever it was, she would not be lost anymore. 

The breathing rocky corridors were all so similar, all lacking doors or rooms or tells of any kind. The only way she knew she wasn’t going back on herself was by her small footprints in the sand. And so she walked, not caring which turns she took, leisurely wandering the halls, hands skimming the stone and durasteel with vague interest. 

As time went on, her tranquil feeling began to fade, and a sense of urgency creeped in to take its place. There was someone she needed to find. There was someone she needed to get to before they were gone forever. 

Her steps quickened, her aimless walking changed to have more trajectory, more focus. There was almost a magnetic pull in her bones, guiding her. She was getting closer. She could feel it. Even the air buzzed and crackled more now, the rock no longer breathing and undulating, more durasteel than stone on the walls. Her mind was sharp, her steps sure. 

So close now. Just around another corner maybe, just around—

Rey made a turn and stopped, her heart pounding, her body frozen. There was a woman standing there, down the hall, facing away. Rey knew before the woman turned who it was, and she trembled, her breath leaving her still in a soft gasp when the woman’s profile and then her full front was revealed.

It was Rey’s mother. 

Or, at least a rendition of her mother. Rey had not thought about her mother or remembered much about her for a long, long time, and so time and loss of memory had warped her features, making them somewhat vague, somewhat blurred. The only features that were sharp was her wavy dark blond hair, decorated with shiny trinkets, and the cornsilk blue color of her finest wrap dress. It was the last things Rey remembered seeing. 

The woman seemed to smile, opening her arms. 

_“Come here, sweetheart.”_

Rey hesitated. Was this who she was meant to find? Her bones told her to keep going, that her prize was not yet discovered. But she couldn’t help the longing she felt, she couldn’t help walking forward, feeling herself shrink, becoming smaller, shorter, younger, until her mother towered over her. The woman knelt, wrapping her arms around Rey, who stood stiffly, confused and scared.

Her mother pulled away, her vague face chilling with her uncanny smile. Rey shivered, her skin prickling in unease. 

_“You’re gonna go with this lady here, okay?”_ She said, making Rey instantly freeze, instantly terrified. _“Momma has to go somewhere now. You be good for her, okay? If you’re good, I’ll come back for you. Okay?”_

Rey turned slowly, trembling, panting for air as Vins appeared like billowing smoke, smiling with sharp teeth, with silver teeth, her many silky robes and wraps all black now, moving and drifting in an invisible wind. 

She held out a blue hand. _“Come here, little sand pest, little slave.”_

Rey heard a whining sound, and she realized as she shook her head that it was coming from her.

“N-no!”

Her mother gently pushed her forward. _“You be good for her, okay? If you’re good, I’ll come back for you. Okay?”_

Rey turned, grabbing onto her mother’s arms with her tiny hands.

“No, no, please, momma, please, I’ll be good now, please don’t leave me, please take me with you, please, please—“

Her mother was dressed in black now as well, her vague face melting into a silver skull carved with so many lines. 

It smiled, voice still young and soft. 

_“Momma has to go somewhere now. If you’re good, I’ll come back for you. Okay?”_

And then the voice was changing, becoming more robotic, more masculine. 

_“I’ll be back,”_ it said. _“It won’t be long.”_ But it was a lie. 

Rey gasped, shaking her head, horrified by the woman’s transformation but still she grasped at her, willing to endure it because she was even more scared of Vins. Anything was better than the Twi’Lek mistress. Anything. 

“P-please, please—“

But her not-mother was slipping away, like smoke, like sand through fingers. 

Desperate, Rey tried to follow, tried to run after the wisps of smoke and lies, but she stopped, gasping again, a darkness like no other writhing into her peripherals, slithering up her spine, like worms. A clawed hand, weathered, much too big to belong to Vins, skin grey and mottled pink where it should have been pale blue, grasped her shoulder tightly from behind. 

A deep voice whispered darkly by her ear, “And what is _this?”_

And then Rey heard screaming. It wasn’t her own this time, but it may as well have been her own for the sudden _agony_ she could feel in the air, in her bones, in her heart. Her skin prickled painfully, the air suddenly sparking and vibrating and buzzing, but it wasn’t gentle anymore, no, it was _violent,_ it was _dark._

Rey turned, slowly, shaking, breath hitching in her throat, and when she saw the towering creature that stood behind her, she open her mouth and _—_

Gloved hands, not clawed, not sickly and weathered, shook Rey’s shoulders, jolting her mid-scream into wakefulness. 

Rey struck out, the Force pulsing in a blow against her assailant, and it was only when he put up his arms to block and redirect it—albeit still pushed to slide back a couple feet— that Rey could see it was Lord Tomaxx. 

He stayed in his kneeled defensive position while Rey sat up, trembling, stuttering, her skin prickling and the memory of pain and agony and electricity still so fresh on her mind she almost thought she could still feel it. That it was _real._

“I-I’m so sorry, L-Lord Tomaxx, I-“ she felt sick, from the dream, from the darkness lingering on the air, from the memories of invisible hands grabbing, from her mother’s voice so chilling and sweet, and so Rey shoved the blanket off, reaching with desperate, grasping hands for the medidroid, rasping, “The ‘fresher, get me to the ‘fresher,” and somehow managed to stumble her way to the other room, collapsing at the toilet to gag. 

She had nothing in her stomach, though. She hadn’t eaten anything in forever. Even now she was fed through her IV line. 

The droid gave her a small cup of water when she paused to breathe, and she drank greedily. It all came up with the second round of gagging, however, which made her want to cry, but she held her tears back. She was tired of crying. And she was absolutely _not_ going to cry in front of Lord Tomaxx. She would not stomach his enjoyment of it. 

Said apprentice appeared in the doorway of the ‘fresher on silent feet, making Rey’s heart skip a beat painfully and her stomach roil again. 

“You were having a nightmare,” he said lowly, his masked voice rattling and making Rey flinch. What a horrible sound. 

Was he in her mind? Was he the one who made her dream of such a horrible thing, of such a horrible creature? She didn’t doubt it. 

“Y-yessir,” she rasped, preparing herself to beg for mercy for her trespass against him. She hated him but she had no right to attack him.

“What do you need to calm down?” He asked. 

Rey frowned, shaking, confused, daring to look up at him. “What?”

“You’re damaging your heart with this stress,” he explained bluntly. “Master will be angry if he comes back and you had to go back to the medbay.” 

She looked away, eyes wide, her anxiety taking a turn. She did not want to make master angry. 

“So,” the Knight continued, “you need to calm down. If you need more tranquilizer, we can get that. If I must go back outside, I will. I came in only because I sensed something was wrong, and I promised Master that no harm would come to you.”

Rey looked at the Knight again, bewildered, unconvinced. 

“If something happens, we’ll both be punished,” he explained, and Rey blanched. She did not care so much if she herself was punished, but she did not want to be the cause of Lord Tomaxx being punished as well, as much as she felt sickened by him and wished he would go away forever. 

“Sorry,” she rasped. “I just..” She wrapped her arms around her middle, shivering, her chest aching for every thump of her heart. She needed to calm down, but there was something wrong, something bad was happening. She had a Feeling. Was it Lord Tomaxx? Was he planning something? 

“I’ll be fine,” she told him quietly, taking deep breaths, trying to settle her racing pulse, although the thought of the apprentice being the source of the Bad Feeling did not help. She just wanted him to leave. “I don’t need to go to the medbay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yessir.”

There was a tense pause, as if he was weighing her answers for the truth, and Rey held herself tighter, eyes down. She was cornered here in the ‘fresher. Trapped. He could come in and there would be nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. 

But then he nodded. 

“Very well.”

He moved forward, towards her, stooping and reaching, and Rey flinched away with a strangled voice, _“Don’t_ touch me—!”

He stopped, standing straight. “I’m not here to hurt you.”  
Rey shook her head, skin prickling, her whole body crawling with unease. If he touched her she would shut down, she knew it with all her heart.

How could he pretend like there was anything normal or trusting between them? How could he pretend like he hadn’t invaded her mind, made her feel held down, made her feel so horribly violated? How can she believe that he wasn’t here to hurt her, when he had done so already without any provocation, while she was completely vulnerable in unconsciousness? She didn’t even know _why_ he had done what he did. 

And he had probably been in her head again while she slept, making her see such terrible, gut-wrenching things. Making her feel the wormy darkness. Perhaps he’d gone too far, woken her up to calm her down so he wouldn’t get punished. 

“I can do it myself,” she insisted, swallowing bile. “Don’t touch me _….please.”_

He stood staring at her from behind his mask, head tilting a fraction as if in curious thought. Was he amused by her reaction? Was this what he wanted? 

“As you wish,” he said quietly, backing out of the ‘fresher to stand by the table outside. Rey felt marginally better without him crowding the small area with his brand of darkness. 

She cleared her throat, swallowing down more acid. She accepted another cup of water from the droid to slowly sip at and wash the bad taste from her mouth, and then when she felt settled enough, she grasped onto the arms of the droid and heaved herself to stand on shaking legs. 

Lord Tomaxx watched her from his sentinel position, but Rey was determined to keep him from helping her. She took in gulping droughts of air, willing the lightheadedness to go away, and then slowly walked back out with a hand on the droid, ignoring the Knight as much as she could as she passed him, her skin shivering with discomfort as she did, an image of him grabbing her and throwing her back into the ‘fresher to corner her and pierce her thoughts flashing in her mind that she quickly pushed away. 

She got back to the couch, sitting heavily and breathing. Another compartment on the droid opened, revealing an oxygen mask, which she took and pressed to her face with relief, chasing the dark spots in her vision away. 

With her free hand Rey hugged herself, looking around. She still felt Something Bad. It was making it difficult to calm her heart. Was something happening? Or about to happen? It was hard for her to tell sometimes, but lately everything had become so much stronger, so much more visceral. 

She wanted to ask Lord Tomaxx if he could feel it, because surely with his far more advanced abilities he could sense the Bad Feeling too? And it certainly seemed like he could sense something now, his stance in the bedroom doorway stiffening somewhat, his head tilting as if listening for something. 

The door beeped and they both turned to look at it. Rey had a sense of deja vu, wondering if this was it, if someone else had come to try and take her away again. 

Lord Tomaxx seemed to have the same thought. He gave Rey an unreadable look behind his mask and then, hand grazing his lightsaber, he went to the door and unceremoniously pressed to open it. Rey jolted, aghast at his abrupt forwardness. 

Standing in the corridor was a group of three officers accompanied by a floating security droid. It looked familiar, like the one from Rey’s first day on board. It’s photosensor zeroed in on her, and it began to drift in but stopped when Lord Tomaxx threw out his hand. 

The officers seemed tense as they realized who had opened the door, flinching back from the apprentice’s sharp motion.

“Lord Tomaxx,” the tall grey-uniformed man in charge addressed in a crisp tone. “Weren’t you with Lord Ren?”

“Cseenan Ren is with my master,” the Knight replied easily, dropping his arm. “I have been charged with looking after Master’s things.” The casualness of his tone was at odds with the deadliness Rey could sense oozing from him. Surely the officers could feel it too? Rey was getting sick from it again. 

The men looked perturbed, and Rey realized that they had probably meant to catch her alone. If Lord Tomaxx hadn’t been here, what would they have done?

“Well,” said the lead officer, “We are in charge of the investigation into the matter of the desertion. We are interviewing witnesses, and have come to record the account from the slave girl.”

Lord Tomaxx did not move. “My master did not instruct me his wishes on this matter,” he told them. “And as I am the girl’s master-by-proxy while he is away, I will tell you that she will not be interviewed at this time.”

Rey stiffened, her heart dropping. What did he just say? _Master-by-proxy?_ Was that what Lord Ren had been telling him so quietly before leaving? Would he be passing her around to his apprentices often like this? She did not like it. She swore herself to one master, and one master only. She could only imagine the mental cruelty she would have to endure as Lord Tomaxx’s slave. 

The officers exchanged frustrated looks. 

“She needs to be interviewed so as to preserve her memory,” the man argued. “This is standard First Order protocol.”

“I am aware,” Lord Tomaxx breezed. “And I applaud your quick response to the incident. But the girl will not be interviewed without approval.”

The officer huffed, brows furrowing in anger. “That is not standard protocol. We don’t know when Lord Ren will be back.”

“I understand,” the Knight replied, tone still deceptively light, the air slightly colder now. “Lord Ren should be back by later tonight. Perhaps he will give permission, and you will be able to interview the girl when he is present.”

“Milord, she is a key witness,” another officer explained.

“As am I,” the apprentice rebutted. “Am I also to be interviewed?”

“Well, yes,” the officer spluttered. “But as she is a suspect, her interview is priority.”

“So she is a suspect, not a witness?”

The lead officer gave a rough sigh. “She’s both. Which is why we need to record her version of what happened. _Promptly.”_

Lord Tomaxx stood silently for a moment, and Rey wondered if he would give in and let them speak to her. She hoped not. She was terrified of saying the wrong thing without her master present. 

“I understand, it’s important to follow protocol,” the Knight finally said, and for a split second the officers looked relieved. But then he continued, “And as the Ren protocol supersedes the First Order one for me and the slave, we will wait for Master Kylo to return tonight.”

“Lord Tomaxx—“

The Knight stepped back, and the door closed off the officer’s words. 

He stood still for a minute, staring at the door, his hand on his saber hilt as if daring the officers to use the security droid to open it again. 

Rey wondered if she was about to be in the middle of a fight, and breathed steadily to keep her heart from racing too fast. She thought about locking herself in the ‘fresher again, the irony of relying on the Knight to protect her this time not lost on her. 

But then she could feel the presence of the small group move away, and Lord Tomaxx turned to look at her. 

“It is important that you remember we are not First Order soldiers,” he told her without preamble. “We work alongside them as allies, but we are not beholden to their rules. They may make a fuss, but we answer to Master Kylo only. Do you understand?”

Rey nodded silently, still slightly shocked that he had just shut the door on them like that, but understanding more now why they had not just barged back in. 

But still, she wondered.

“Why did you turn them away?” She asked, pulling the oxygen mask away. “Shouldn’t I be interviewed?”

“Do you still feel drugged?” He questioned instead of answering. 

She blinked, then looked away, taking stock of herself. Things were much less floaty and warped, but she still felt hazy around the edges. The droid must have given her something to offset the tranquilizer. Perhaps that’s partly to blame for her sickness.

“A little,” she told him honestly. 

“Then it would be easier for them to manipulate you into confessing to suit their agenda,” he intoned, and Rey froze. 

“Agenda?”

“The officers and crew tolerate our presence for the most part, but the general hates us,” he told her bluntly. “He will do what he can to get rid of us. Although if the medic drugged and led you out of the medbay against your volition, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”

The comment shocked Rey, filled her with sudden nauseating trepidation, and immediately she knew Lord Tomaxx could sense it. 

She had hoped that she would confess to her master first, and no one else. She knew she probably could not lie to Lord Tomaxx, but she feared what he would do to her with the truth. Lord Ren was not here to intervene, to mediate. But there was no avoiding it.

The air was colder, the apprentice stiff as he quietly asked her, _“Did_ the medic take you against your will?”

“I….” Rey swallowed, taking another couple deep breaths of oxygen. She looked down at her lap, shoulders hunching. “He did not,” she rasped, voice small.

Lord Tomaxx didn’t move, but the tension increased tenfold.

“Master Kylo believes you were drugged and led out. Did you lie to him?”

Rey looked up and shook her head vehemently. “No, I didn’t. I promise. I _can’t_ lie to him.”

Lord Tomaxx stood silently judging her, and Rey breathed the oxygen, body flush with cold sweat now, shaking from the fearful adrenaline preparing her for whatever the Knight was going to do to her now that he knew— She had gone willingly, at first. She had gone along with the desertion attempt.

But he did not move. 

“You will tell Master Kylo the truth when he gets back,” he told her in what felt like a loose command. Rey nodded, because of course she was going to tell him. She did not need to be ordered that. 

“But,” he added, “when the First Order officers come back to interview you, you will not say anything that will damage Master or the group. No matter if that means you have to lie and tell them you were manipulated out from the beginning. If you have done something wrong, you will keep it within the group. We deal with our own problems ourselves. Master will punish you as he sees fit. Do you understand?”

Rey shivered, nodding again. 

“Yessir.” 

She did not want to do anything to cause more problems for Lord Ren. If she had to lie to the investigators, she would, especially if it was with the blessing of one of her master’s apprentices.

With that said, she would take her punishment for what she did, but only from Lord Ren. The Knight did not seem to be preparing to do anything to her about it though, so she let herself relax a fraction. 

They were silent for a moment, the apprentice looking away briefly. Rey just wanted him to leave, just wanted to go back to sleep and hope for no more dreams, but she couldn’t help but ask, to clarify, to know for sure.

“Are you…are you really my master when Lord Ren is away?”

He looked at her again. “No,” he said, and Rey tried to cover her sigh of relief. 

“But they don’t know that,” he added. “And as I said, occasionally we must lie—to outsiders— to protect each other. With Master accepting you for now, we four are the only ones we can trust here.”

The subtle qualifier—“for now”— aside, Rey frowned. She could almost believe him, that he meant it about protecting and trusting each other. But his words did not erase what he had done to her. They did not stop her from shivering again, from rubbing the discomforted gooseflesh on her arms, from willing her stomach to stop its queasy lurching. 

Lord Tomaxx may be following their master’s commands now, but Rey knew that given another chance he would be back inside her head, shoving aside her attempts to push him out and sinking himself deeper into her thoughts and memories, like teeth into flesh. 

“I will wait back outside,” he told her. “Unless I sense you in distress again, in which case I will return to help you calm down.”

Rey nodded, deciding that she would keep herself calm as much as humanly possible. She didn’t want to know what Lord Tomaxx would do to ‘help her calm down.’ 

“Master Kylo should be back tonight,” he said, the door opening again. “Maybe early tomorrow. Sleep if you can. He will want a detailed recounting of what transpired earlier.”

“Yessir,” she said, and then he was back outside without another word, the door shutting resoundingly between them. 

Rey took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her whole body still prickled with unease, shuddered with the Bad Feeling, but she would not let it affect her. She would count the ceiling panels for a fifth time, sleep, perhaps even tinker with the droid. 

But she would _not_ let herself become distressed. She would get better now, she would let her mind clear and then when her master returned she would tell him everything, and maybe he would still accept her. 

He just needed to come back first.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. I'm curious what you guys think of Rey's dream, and of her and Tomaxx's first actual interactions. 
> 
> Also, I know I took this past week off, and originally I was going to use it to write a lot and get super ahead so I could post more chapters, buuuuut, lemme tell you guys how me week actually went:
> 
> **Monday:** Woke up, super chill, then realized that my visa was expiring on Thursday and had to run into work and get a bunch of documents and fill out an application and have it signed and stamped by my boss and my boss's boss's boss.   
> **Tuesday:** Drove two hours to the nearest immigration office to submit my application. Got a temporary extension :D Yay! But I'll have to drive back at some point to pick up my new green card. I tried to write some when I got back home, but I was so exhausted I just ended up napping mostly.   
> **Wednesday:** Drove an hour and a half to the nearest Costco with my friend, to go shopping and enjoy the sweet taste of the Motherland for a day. I'm normally vegetarian but that Costco hotdog was the best thing I've eaten in months. I almost cried. We usually make Costco a day trip because it's so far, and when I got back I ended up drawing a birthday present for my beta (it's him as a Jedi 😂), so I didn't really get any writing done.  
>  **Thursday:** Drove an hour and some change into the mountains to meet a friend to check out Japan's deepest train station, and then we went hiking for about three hours. I am very sore 😂   
> **Friday:** What was supposed to be a three hour drive to go meet up with my beta for his birthday turned into SIX HOURS because at one point the Toll road was closed so I had to exit, and then the main road was closed because the river was too high, and then the little mountain road I tried to take was ALSO closed because of the heavy rains recently, so I was driving around trying to figure out where the fuck I can go to get to where I needed to be, when FINALLY the Toll road opened up again and I was able to get back on the road. Japan is seriously so dumb sometimes, closing the toll road when the only other road to anywhere is also closed. DUMB. I finally got home at 2:30am 😂😂 No regrets. Me and Beta had a grand ol' time, even though I got there so late (around6pm) so we couldn't do the things we had originally planned.   
> And now we're here on Saturday 😂 I've been working on this chapter all day. Tomorrow I'll get back on writing, and I'll try to write all next week while I'm sitting on my ass deskwarming at work. So perhaps after next week I'll be able to post two chapters a week more consistently. 
> 
> But for this next week I'm going to post the next chapter on Saturday, August 8th, 9PM Japan time. 
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo is NOT okay after his punishment from Snoke.....


	48. Charred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's punishment was _severe...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ## SURPRIIIIIIISEEEE 😁✨
> 
> I managed to get a couple chapters written ahead, so here's a surprise posting! 😘❤️
> 
> With that said, **👉👉Trigger warning 👈👈 gaslighting, aftermath of abuse, graphic depiction of wounds**  
> .  
> .  
> .

* * *

Kylo wasn’t sure how long he suffered under Snoke’s wrath, and he wasn’t sure how long he lay on the floor of the throne room afterwards. He hardly knew who or where he was anymore, all he could think of, all he could understand, was a deep, all-encompassing agony. 

Distantly he could hear his breath rattling in his chest, could feel his muscles twitching involuntarily, could taste blood in his mouth. His skin throbbed, every spasm of movement ripping through his burnt nerves like being struck by a blaster over and over again. 

A deep voice spoke to him, the words coming from without and within him.

“Ah, the pain you force me to inflict upon you, my apprentice….”

Kylo felt like he should apologize, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. 

The voice continued, slowly circling him. 

“Remember this, young Kylo…. I made you what you are….Without my guidance you would be without true realization. You would be nothing. ……I saw much potential in you and your Skywalker lineage, in spite of your mongrel father’s blood tainting it. If I could burn it out of you…”

_Yes,_ Kylo thought. _Burn it out. Destroy this shame._

_I can take it._

A throaty, dark chuckle echoed around him.

“Perhaps, young Solo. But you know what you must do to rid yourself of this conflict. You know what must be done to obtain your true destiny….”

_Yes,_ he thought. _Kill Han Solo. Kill Luke Skywalker. Finish Darth Vader’s legacy._

“Yessss……” the voice hissed, and something—a hand—caressed his head. When did his helmet come off? It didn’t matter. Only the sweet relief brought on by the gentle touch mattered. It was a small kindness within so much pain.

It turned his stomach.

“You have let yourself become weak, however. I fear Vader’s legacy will be forgotten, unfulfilled, abandoned to other pursuits.” 

_No, not abandoned. Never abandoned._ A flash of a face came up from the depths of him, but he quickly shut it away. 

“Hmm…We shall see.” 

Kylo cracked open his eyes. There was not much he could see—just his own hand, twitching on the gleaming black floor before his face.

“You have taken your punishment well—such strength, such endurance—“ Kylo shuddered, warm and sick, “—but you are not the only failure here. Must I punish your Barabel too? Must I call for Tomaxx Ren to join us?”

Fear pierced him.   
  
“N-n..” He could not speak much more than that, but it was apparently enough.

The jagged fingernails scraped lightly on Kylo’s scalp, snagging on his hair. 

“Then be a good boy….forget all other distractions…. and _find the map_. Next time you fail, _all of you_ will know my disappointment.”

Kylo took a breath, wincing from a sudden spasm of pain in his chest, but was determined to push through it. 

“Y-yes, Supreme..Leader….”

“Good…and the girl….” 

Kylo tensed, regretting it immediately when a flare of pain tore through him.

“…she won’t be a problem, will she? You will bend her to your will, break her into submission, teach her to cut herself off from the Force, won’t you? 

“Yes…” he answered with a ragged breath, feeling hollow.

Another scrape of nails against his scalp, another deep hum, _“Good…._ I always knew you were the better cut for training others in our ways, my faithful apprentice…”  
  
The hand disappeared, and Kylo heard shuffling as the Supreme Leader walked back to his regal seat.  
  
“Go back now to the _Finalizer._ Lick your wounds, tighten your leashes, and then _find the map_.”

Kylo said nothing else, too focused on trying to get up. His limbs were unresponsive at first, too overworked and paralyzed from his seizing before. But somehow he managed to drag his arms up, push up his torso, get his legs beneath himself, and wrench himself up into a standing position. The length of his robes almost tripped him, but he caught himself, breathing through the sudden lightheadedness and vertigo and pain. Constant pain. 

He remembered to pick up his helmet, and then with a final, stiff bow to the enthroned master, he turned and lurched towards the lift, trying to pull on the Force to help keep him from falling flat on his face again.

Everything was a blur, and Kylo almost collapsed again inside the lift. He leaned against the wall, hunched over, rasping for air, shaking. He saw drops of blood on the floor and distantly wondered where they came from. 

Aside from the convulsions of pain ripping through his nervous system, his chest felt very wrong, and there was an odd smoky smell, like burnt plastic or rubber mixed with charred meat. Kylo’s stomach roiled from it, and he swallowed bile. 

When the lift stopped and opened, he tried to straighten, tried to will himself into some sort of resemblance of strength and endurance. He would not show weakness in front of the crew here. 

As he moved stiffly through the blurring corridor to the hangar, passing officers stared at him in horror and then quickly looked away. He felt exposed and wished he had put on his mask, but he knew he would pass out if he tried. He could barely breathe as it was. 

The docking bay emerged, and Kylo had never been so glad to see his shuttle before. He staggered towards it, hoping Cseenan was still there, hoping he hadn’t been summoned up to the red room to be punished. Kylo would not wish this on anyone. But he would take it again if it meant his Knights wouldn’t suffer. 

It was his duty as their Master to take it. It was his duty to expel his own weaknesses.

Cseenan was standing by the ramp, tail swishing in agitation, but froze for a moment when he saw Kylo.

“Master!” He rasped, the sound almost indiscernible through the stuffed ringing in the man’s ears. The Knight was rushing forward, and with a sudden spasm of pain rendering his legs boneless, Kylo collapsed down to his knees. 

“..Back to…the _Finalizer…”_ he wheezed out. 

“You need a medic,” the Barabel growled as he kneeled, the words felt through vibrations of his arm around Kylo’s back more than heard.

Filled with dread at the idea of being on this ship for any longer, Kylo grit his teeth and grabbed onto the collar of Cseenan’s robes, pulling his head down closer.

“Get me…. _away_ …from…here….”

The Knight paused only a moment before giving a stiff nod.

“Yes, Master.”

He helped Kylo to stand, looping an arm under his shoulder. The position pulled against the skin on Kylo’s chest horribly, making him cry out through clenched teeth, sweat stinging his eyes and blurring his vision further. 

Somehow they half dragged, half stumbled to the shuttle, up the ramp, and Kylo was laid down on the bench seat. He realized he was still holding onto his helmet, and let it fall heavily to the floor. 

“The other officers left with Hux, near an hour ago,” Cseenan grumbled. “Cseenan will fly us out alone.”  
  
Kylo gave a shaky nod, too pained and breathless to speak. An hour? His punishment had lasted _an hour?_ He could barely remember flashes of it. Of blood red, crackling electricity, searing pain, screams. It had felt like a lifetime. 

The Knight gave him another once-over and then got up swiftly to man the controls and begin the startup sequence. 

Kylo could feel the ramp close, but everything was still drowned out by the high-pitched tone coming from somewhere. His ears felt stuffed with throbbing cotton. The hum of the shuttle was muffled— in fact, everything was muffled. In all of his senses. 

The ship rose, gliding out of the bay, and as soon as they jumped to lightspeed, as soon as Snoke’s inky, wormy presence faded out, Kylo felt his whole body release the tension it had been holding, and then he promptly leaned over the side of the bench and threw up. 

The vomit was black, which meant he either swallowed blood or he had internal bleeding in his stomach. Perhaps he should have been seen by a medic after all.

The shuttle now on autopilot with their trajectory mapped out, Cseenan appeared back at Kylo’s side, sans mask, his clawed hands prodding gently, amber eyes scanning him with somber shock. 

“This is worse than all times before,” he said in a low tone. “I should have come up with Master.”

“Then who…would have…flown us..back?” Kylo said, the sound rattling in his dry throat.

The Barabel peered down at the brackish vomit, then back up. “You need a medic. I will find another ship to go to.”

Kylo shook his head. “Get the bacta. Do triage. I need to…get back. We have to….find..the map.” He would not— _could not_ —disappoint Snoke again. 

Cseenan paused, nostrils flaring, and then gave another stiff nod, rising to do as he was bid. 

Kylo pawed at his belt, trying to undo it so he could at least get his robes and shirt off—because there was definitely something wrong with his chest—but his hands were shaking and numb, his fingers feeling as if the tendons had been cut. He pulled off his gloves just to check, but they were still intact. Just unresponsive. 

When the Knight returned with the case of medical supplies and bacta packs, he kneeled, avoiding the mess, and began helping Kylo. He growled as he tried but failed to work the belt. 

“It’s been melted, Master. I have to break it.”

“Fine.” 

Using his claws Cseenan ripped through the thick leather, pausing halfway through at Kylo’s grunt of pain. The belt no longer holding together anymore was the least of the problems, however. The middle clasp had melted through Kylo’s layers, down to his skin. 

In fact, as they both looked at Kylo’s front, it became evident that the area of his torso from his belly button to his clavicles was far more than just singed. What had seemed like a warped amalgamation of his black layers before now showed something far worse: The cloth had been completely burnt into his flesh, the skin blackened and charred, oozing blood and fat and fluids, and as Kylo’s shock wore off, he was beginning to feel the effects of such a wound, _acutely._

Cseenan tried to pull the fabric away to see the wounds beneath and apply bacta, and Kylo tried to keep himself still, tried to push through the pain, but he could not help to cry out through bloody, gritted teeth, could not stop himself from pushing the Knight away in a desperate attempt to end the agony. 

“Stop, stop—“ he gasped. “Just leave it.”

“Master, you need bacta,” the Barabel argued, “These wounds are grave.”

“Then just put the bacta on top,” Kylo rasped, feeling lightheaded. “Don’t….don’t pull on it anymore. I can’t…” His throat clicked as he swallowed. 

_I can’t stand the pain._

Cseenan sat on his haunches, thinking, his sharp eyes roving the damage. 

“We are two hours away from the _Finalizer,”_ he finally rasped. “One hour from the _Hammer._ We can go to the closer ship. They can operate sooner.”

Again Kylo shook his head. He did not want this to be seen by more people on other ships.

“I’ll survive, Cseenan,” he wheezed. “Alert the medics on the _Finalizer.”_

No doubt they would want to regain his favor.

Cseenan growled in frustration, his claws clicking. “Fine.” He got up, speaking lowly into the comm, and Kylo thought he could hear Tomaxx’s voice on the other end. Cseenan came back soon after, cleaning his claws diligently before beginning triage. 

The Knight applied the bacta patches as gingerly as he could, but it was soon becoming very obvious that Kylo would need strong painkillers to fight the agony afflicting him. He felt like his whole torso was on fire. There was no holding back his guttural cries, through clenched teeth as they were, even after Cseenan stopped touching him. Just lying there was pure torture, was worse than what Snoke had originally done to him. Kylo was drenched in sweat, trembling, the pain so bad he briefly contemplated hitting his head against something to knock himself out. Even more briefly he thought about asking the Knight to kill him. 

And Kylo did scream, eyes clenched shut, his whole body tense, shaking, his heart thundering erratically. And then it felt like a weight was pressing down on his chest, making it harder and harder to breath, and as Kylo gasped for air, he felt his vision warping, felt his heart stuttering, felt his torso become _warm._

This was…this was _not good._  
  
“Master, you are _fading,”_ Cseenan snarled, eyes wide with fury and fear. “I am taking us to the _Hammer.”_  
  
“No,” Kylo choked out, shaking his pounding head, grasping for the Barabel’s robe to stop him. 

There were a million things flashing in Kylo’s mind—pain, heat, a woman’s voice saying she’d be right back, rusty rock and durasteel— but also the Force lighting in the Archives room. The cross words. The unfair punishments. The hate. 

“I didn’t mean it, Cseenan,” he slurred. 

“What?” The Knight asked, already standing, ready to change their course for the closer ship. 

Kylo had almost killed his own Knight. He had abused the sacred trust between himself and his apprentice. 

“I shouldn’t’ve done it,” he mumbled, trying to maintain eye contact, but the Knight was swaying, blurring. 

Cseenan pulled out of Kylo’s grasp, scaly brows hooded in anxiety.

“You are delirious. Master, we need—“ 

_No, no, you’re not listening._

“We will duel, Cseenan,” Kylo wheezed, not caring anymore about seeming strong or weak. This was about right or wrong. And he had wronged his brother. 

“I challenge you.”

The Knight’s eyes were wide now, his body still, his own breathing labored. He eyed Kylo for a long moment and Kylo tried to hold his gaze steady.

“Master must live in order for Cseenan to accept his challenge,” he finally rasped. 

“I will,” Kylo mumbled, his chest searing, body so warm, his heart a rapid, erratic thing, and Kylo knew he was dying, he knew they were too far from even the _Hammer,_ he could feel his Life Force slipping away, and suddenly he was remembering the texts, remembering the things he had learned and tried and failed. 

He would not fail this time.

_The Force_ , he remembered. _Maybe the Force will save me. Maybe it will work this time._

He was desperate for it to work this time. 

Kylo placed his hands on his torso, groaning from the stinging, throbbing pain, and then concentrated, tried to think past the pain to sense the Force, tried to pull on it and channel it into his wounds. There was nothing but pain, nothing but his rattling breathing, his eyes closed now, but he could hear Cseenan moving away, pressing controls, perhaps to change course to the other ship.

_No,_ Kylo thought. _I will heal myself this time._

His jaw hurt from the tension, but it was a drop against the searing of his chest. How can he concentrate through all of this? There must be something, there must be another thing, an anchor—

And he sensed it, the tiny sliver of connection, his strange tether to the slave girl. He focused on it, let it guide him, let it anchor him, through the pain and agony and encroaching darkness, to access the Force beyond it. And then he directed all of the power, all of the energy he could grab onto, through his hands, into his torso, and for a moment there was nothing but more pain, but then he could feel relief begin to bloom. 

It was small at first, just little prickles of coolness where there was only heat and acid, but soon it was a pulsing wave, like rings on water, and he could feel his breath coming easier, could feel an itchiness where the melted skin repaired and the lacerations stitched closed, pushing out the foreign cloth and plastic and leather. 

The agony lessened, dimming down to just a stabbing, throbbing ache, and then Kylo could sense the Force slipping away, his grasp on the power like trying to grab smoke. The cooling wave stopped, and he opened his eyes, shuddering, gasping for air, looking up to see Cseenan staring down at him in disbelief and awe.

The Knight kneeled, tentatively removing the bacta patches, and they both looked down to see a mostly-healed expanse of skin where charred and scorched flesh had been before. It was still red-raw, disfigured, and unfinished. But Kylo knew he was no longer close to death anymore. The darkness had retreated. He would survive. 

He looked at Cseenan, his vision clearer than before, his voice stronger. 

“We are going back to the _Finalizer.”_

The Barabel nodded, silent, and moved to the console to change the course again. 

Kylo closed his eyes again, exhaustion hitting him harder than it ever had before. But he found himself almost giddy. His mouth twitched, his fists clenched. 

He’d done it. He’d used the Force to heal himself. 

He wasn’t weak. He was strong, and he was growing stronger all the time. 

And somehow, amidst all of it, his connection with Girl had helped. 

It was another thing to add to the list of mysteries surrounding the slave, her powers, and himself. He had too many questions now, and not enough answers. 

When he got back, when he was patched up and rested, he would finally sit down and have the long conversation he’d been meaning to have with the girl. Even if he was supposed to help her cut herself off from the Force—something he was loathe to do— he would wrest what he could from her beforehand, and finally end this bout of mystery. 

He just needed to get back first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Kylo got pretty fucked up 😬😬😬
> 
> I'm writing as much and as fast as I can, so I will continue to post next chapter this Saturday, August 8th at 9PM 😁✨  
> Next Chapter: Rey is reminded of her place, and she and Tomaxx are alerted about Kylo's condition...


	49. Omens and Awe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey has a horrifying experience, and Kylo returns for treatment....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ## 🚨🚨 I posted ch 48 on Wednesday the 5th as a surprise. If you haven't read it yet, please read it before this one!! 🚨🚨
> 
> No glaring trigger warnings in this chapter as far as I can tell. If anyone thinks there should be one, please let me know!

* * *

Rey somehow managed to sleep again, with fitful, warped dreams plaguing her throughout. There were flashes of red, of crackling electricity, a twisted smile, and speckles of blood. There was screaming, and dark laughter, clenched teeth, sweat, and tears. It was a kaleidoscope of horror, and she was tumbling amongst it all, helpless. 

She woke up in a jolt to the sound of the door hissing open, Lord Tomaxx stepping in with decisive steps, and she scrambled upright, stuttering, 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’ll calm myself, I promise.”

“You are not fine.”

“I will be, _please._ I promise.”

“Perhaps a sedative would help,” he said pointedly, looking at the medidroid. 

Rey shook her head, waving her hands at the droid. “No, no more drugs. Please, I’ll calm myself, I just…keep having bad dreams. I’m fine. I just won’t sleep anymore.”

Lord Tomaxx shook his head. 

“I typically wouldn’t care, and truthfully, if Master wasn’t so determined to keep you around I’d let you self-sabotage until death, but he is adamant, and so I must mind you.”

Rey looked down at her hands where they gripped the blanket. Fake-caring felt almost worst than not caring at all. Especially coming from him.

“With that said,” he continued, “you need to heal in order to work and be useful, and you need to rest in order to heal.”

She wanted to be useful. She wanted to be useful _so badly_ , but she could not stomach anymore drugs.

“I’ll….” Rey thought quickly, desperate. “I’ll just…sit….quietly….” 

His unsettling mask tilted. “That won’t work.” He started moving towards her, hand coming up. “I can give you dreamless sleep—“

“NO!” She cried, shrinking back on the couch, going so far as to stand on the cushions, back pressed against the geometric wall. She would rather be drugged. She would rather be punched unconscious, even.

His hand dropped. “Get down.”

“No,” she shook her head, heart pounding, chest feeling off but not the kind of ‘off’ she was used to. It wasn’t her heart. It was another Bad Feeling. 

It was a _very_ Bad Feeling. 

She felt the temperature drop, and her stomach clenched, a shaking in her legs from more than just lack of strength. 

“Girl…” Lord Tomaxx said quietly, a soft rattle of sound that made Rey’s skin crawl. In spite of his promise to Lord Ren to not cause her any harm, she needed to remember that this creature was dangerous. He had hurt her before, without remorse. His softness was deceiving. 

“…you may have given an oath to Kylo,” he told her slowly, tensely, “and I may not be your master,” he took a step forward, words precise, a quiet threat, “..but do not make the mistake, thinking that we are _equals,_ and that you can defy me when I tell you to do something. You are still a slave. Even without formal slave training, this behavior is _unacceptable.”_

Rey’s gaze lowered in deference and shame and fear, her body breaking out into a cold sweat. She shouldn’t have shouted. Now he was definitely going to force his way into her head and make her sleep. She should have just taken it quietly. 

“Master Kylo trusted me to watch after you,” he continued. “Which means he trusts the decisions I make in regards to your health. If I decide that putting you to sleep is the best thing for you—” he took another step forward, just a foot from the couch now, well within arms reach of Rey, even pressed away as she was. “—then he will support my decision.” 

How could Lord Ren trust Lord Tomaxx after what he did to her? Did Lord Ren not know? He must not, or he wouldn’t have left the Knight to watch her. 

_Or he knows, and he just doesn’t care._

The possibility made her heart fall. That was probably the most likely.

Lord Tomaxx looked up at her—not by much, though, because he was almost as tall as Lord Ren— and Rey decided that more than anything she hated his mask the most, the silver lines in such a way that it almost looked like a skull.

“Sit. _Down,”_ he commanded, so quietly, but with more threat than Rey had ever thought imagined coming from such lowly spoken words. 

She slid down slowly, pulling her knees to her chest, wincing from the Bad Feeling. Her whole torso felt wrong, and she couldn’t help rubbing absently at her diaphragm. 

He stood staring at her, silently, frigidly, and Rey shivered beneath his hidden gaze, her hand pressed tightly to her chest, below her clavicles.

“You’ve stressed your heart,” The Knight accused. “Master will not be happy.”

Rey shook her head, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. It felt like there were a thousand bugs crawling all over her, in and out of her midsection. 

“It’s not my heart—It’s a Bad Feeling,” she confessed, slightly breathless, daring to look up. “Something is _wrong._ Can’t you feel it?” 

He froze, head cocked to the side, and then Rey felt the ghost of his oily presence probing against her mind, making her flinch and recoil with a small whine. 

It felt like she’d been dunked in cold water, her stomach roiling again, threatening to bring up what little water remained. Even from such a small contact, she felt herself begin to drift away, a numbness overtaking her where the crawling had been, where the Bad Feeling had been. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore. Lord Tomaxx was going to slither into her head again, and she did not want to be aware of it when he did. 

But he did not do more than that small brush, retreating quickly, leaving her shocked and shaken, gasping for air and blinking back tears. At almost the same time, his commlink beeped. 

Both of them looked at it, and he lifted it, turning and stepping away.

“Cseenan,” he answered. “Are you on your way back?”

Rey’s heart lifted, a small flame of hope flickering to life within her, helping her push away her nausea. 

_“Yes,”_ came the raspy reply, and Rey sank against the cushions, eyes squeezed shut and dizzy with relief. Lord Ren was coming back.

_“But Master is in need of the medics, we are going to a closer ship—the Hammer,”_ the Barabel added, causing alarm to fill the rooms and Rey’s eyes to open wide. 

_“It is….very bad, Tomaxx. The punishment was… worse than all times before.”_

The now-rigid apprentice was silent for a moment, and then spoke into the comm.

“Where are you? I can go to the Bridge and direct the ship to move closer, perhaps meet you halfway.”

_“There’s no time. I will update you change-wise as we go. Master needs me now.”_

The commlink cut off, and the cold room was silent. 

Rey sat, mind whirling.   
  
Did she cause Lord Ren to be gravely wounded by his Master? 

Rey felt sick to her stomach again, guilt overwhelming her. 

She hadn’t cared about a master being hurt since Nybian. Even though Lord Ren had caused her so much pain and fear, he had accepted her, he had spared her life in spite of her transgression against him. And here was his reward for it. 

Rey hoped it wasn’t something too serious, that it would just require a quick fix-up from the medbay with their good bacta, and then he would be back on his feet. But Lord Cseenan’s words, about it being “worse than all times before,” about it being so bad they have to stop at another ship to see the medics, did not sound good. 

And the strange feeling she had, the uncomfortable itchy, crawly, achey-ness she could still feel in her torso, told her it might be something worse as well. She’d never felt anything like it before, so much so that she was half terrified it actually was her heart and she was dying herself. But she realized the droid would have sprung into action if that was the case, and so she was slightly reassured. 

But the feeling changed and became _worse,_ became like witnessing a water canteen become upended, slowly pouring out onto dried and cracked ground that swallowed up the life-giving liquid forever. 

It felt like dying, or watching someone die.

Lord Tomaxx looked at her sharply. 

“Calm down.”

Rey shook her head, grasping at the front of her shirts, wheezing for air.

“This isn’t—“

She tried to just breathe through it, to find some sort of calm within herself, but it did not go away. The droid began to beep a warning at her, which only seemed to make it worse, the sound so shrill this time in the quietly suffocating room.

The apprentice kneeled by the couch, reaching as if to touch her, but pulled back at her flinch and whine. 

“Girl, you’re having a panic attack.”

_No, no, this was different, this was—_

Desperation clawing at her to do something, Rey hugged herself tightly, eyes closed, and she prayed to whatever gods or Maker that it would end, that whatever Bad Thing was happening would stop, because watching people die was already horror enough, but actually _feeling_ it was much, _much_ worse, and it was beginning to bring up too many memories, too many hidden things, and she just couldn’t handle being transported back to those times of helplessly watching death and feeling life fade away—because of _her,_ Wolson had died because of _her—,_ and Lord Tomaxx was saying something, but his awful, rattling vocomodulator just made her feel _sick._

Rey has never been a particularly religious or devout person, but as she prayed it almost felt like something was answering her, tugging on her heart, on her soul, as if she was tied to a string, and then, just when the Knight began giving a command to the medidroid and Rey was sure she was going to hyperventilate and faint, it all….stopped.

Not all at once, not very quickly, but it began to ebb away, like a passing danger, a fading storm— A settling of wind and sand and electricity. A slowly falling calm.

Rey grabbed the Knight’s arm as soon as it all began to change, halting him mid-command, but released him quickly and retreated fearfully, a wave of repulsed gooseflesh prickling across her body. She was shaking, her heart pattering away in her chest, but it was mostly in dizzying relief now. She took in a deep, ragged breath until her ribs creaked, and then let it out slowly, the tension and strangeness easing away with every additional breath.

What the kriff was _that?_ Was it some sort of vision? Did she just experience an Omen of Death? She had heard of such things happening to oracles and witches from stories on Jakku, but that was the first time she’d ever felt anything like it. She decidedly did _not_ enjoy it, and she found herself cursing the Force and wishing she could get rid of it, especially if this sort of thing was going to be happening again. Her “awakening” felt like anything but. It felt more like falling deeper into a nightmare. 

As the rooms came back into focus Rey realized that Lord Tomaxx was staring at her.

“Do you usually have panic attacks like this?” He asked.

Rey frowned, voice hoarse, “It wasn’t a panic attack, sir. It felt like some sort of omen, or…something…”  
  
“I did not sense anything,” he told her lowly, a frown in his voice. “Other than your hysterical emotions, that is.” 

She tucked her chin down, scowling. 

“Sorry, sir.” 

It wasn’t a panic attack. She knew it wasn’t. 

“Next time it happens,” he told her, “try to find something to ground yourself.”

Rey peeked up, a question written on her face. 

Lord Tomaxx tapped his mask at the temple. “Getting lost in the chaos of it in your mind will only make it worse. Look around at your surroundings and describe them, count how many doors, find primary colors—anything to keep you in your body. It will help.”

Rey nodded quietly, the sudden advice surprising her. 

“Do you have panic attacks?” She asked, although she could not imagine such a cold and emotionless being ever succumbing to something as strong as panic. She felt silly as soon as the question left her.

“No,” he droned, standing, and did not say anything else, so Rey decided it was safer to drop it. 

The commlink beeped again, and her heart skipped a beat. 

Lord Tomaxx looked at it in his palm, his mask tilting a fraction to glance at her, and then he swiftly turned and walked to the door, which opened and closed with a hiss, disappearing him out into the corridor.

_Wait_ , she wanted to call after him, _I want to know what’s going on. I want to hear about Lord Ren’s injuries. I want to help._

But the Knight was gone, and a part of her was glad for it. Some of the tension released from her heart, the revulsion still churning in her stomach now fading somewhat.

After catching her breath and settling down some, Rey waited to see if Lord Tomaxx would come back in, but he did not, although his inky presence was still close by. 

In fact, Rey ended up waiting, restless with anxiety and guilt, mind whirling and thoughts churning for well over an hour before she saw him again. 

The door opened suddenly and Lord Tomaxx entered briskly, not even glancing in her direction, going straight into Lord Ren’s room. Rey could hear cabinets and drawers opening and closing, and then the apprentice appeared again, holding a bundle of neatly folded clothes. 

She thought briefly about trying again to tell him what she’d experienced, but she still did not trust him, still felt horrible unease and _wrong_ ness from his small brush against her mind, so she held back. And then he was turning and speaking to her in a clipped tone, 

“Lord Ren will be back shortly. He has wounds that need medical attention. You will stay here until one of us comes back for you.”

Rey blinked, relief blooming at the news, but the accompanying worry making her frown. He was coming here? Not the other ship? Did that mean his injuries were not so serious after all?

“Yessir,” she replied, realizing he was waiting for her to say something. The apprentice nodded and then left. 

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, her mind churning about what sorts of wounds they could be. Would he need a bacta tank? Could someone as powerful as Lord Ren even get injured so badly? 

It was a harrowing thought, that he could. That he could possible even _die._ He seemed immortal to Rey. 

She resigned herself to more waiting, more worrying and fidgeting, hating that she was feeling this way again after spending so many years trying to kill that hopeful, yearning part of her, forever waiting like a parched plant staring at the sun, searching for a raincloud. She was so stupid, for allowing herself to fall for this. Lord Ren might never come back. She might have to accept Lord Tomaxx as her new master, and learn to live with his mental invasions for the rest of her life. 

Death would be the preferable alternative, in that case. 

Dark thoughts brewing and churning, Rey began to settle back on the couch, wanting to sleep again. She was exhausted—it must be nighttime by now even though the lights were not lowered—and for all the sleeping she’d been doing she’d hardly gotten any rest from it. Rey gave a heavy sigh, covering her eyes with the crook of her elbow to block out the light.

But then she felt him, her master, appearing like a cold hand on her spine, and she jolted upright again. His sudden emergence on her senses made her gasp, made her shiver, and, inexplicably, caused a very faint, watery smile to break out across her sallow face.

She should not be so emotional about it, she was acting so stupid—it had been only a handful of hours that he’d gone away, after all. But it had seemed much longer than that to her. 

And Rey decided then that no matter how much groveling on her knees she needed to do to atone for the punishment he’d endured at the hands of his master for her mistake, she would do it.

For a master who kept his promises, who came back, who didn’t leave her, 

Rey would do anything. 

* * *

  
~~~~~~O*O~~~~~~

* * *

  
Kylo staggered out of the shuttle ‘fresher having cleaned off most of the blood from his face and neck. He had truly been a ghastly sight; it was no wonder the crew on the _Supremacy_ had looked at him with such horror. 

His eyes were so bloodshot they almost looked like Tomaxx’s now; the whites were completely red, and his sockets were bruised a deep purple. He’d also had blood from his nose covering his mouth and chin as if he’d torn into raw meat with his teeth. His left eardrum was obviously burst, from the throbbing, hearing loss, and blood running down his jawline and neck. His right ear was damaged but he could at least hear some sounds. It was a nuisance but it would be fixed soon, once he got to the medbay.

With the worst of the wounds on his chest somewhat healed, and the cloth of his robes no longer melted into his flesh, Kylo was able to disrobe down to his trousers, the high waistband tattered and singed at his bellybutton, but still holding up. Everything else would have to be discarded and his replacements fetched once they landed.

And, now bare, they were able to better see the full damage Kyo had been afflicted. Even with the healing he had done, the sight was _disturbing_ to say in the least. 

Aside from the puckered and raw spread on his chest and abdomen, there were other burns criss-crossing all over Kylo’s skin, on his arms, around his ribs, all over his back, and no doubt farther down on his legs as well. They were blistered lines, zigzagging about and branching off like limbs on a tree, or veins of a river delta. It looked like someone had taken a lightning bolt, fashioned it into a brand, and wrapped it around Kylo’s body.

With bacta treatment it would heal without scarring, but a small part of Kylo wanted to let it scar. It would be a reminder. A reminder of his failure, but also of his success. He had healed himself of a grave wound. He had saved his own life.

Cseenan helped spray bacta on the worst of the wounds, the pain of the burns still making Kylo clench his teeth, groaning and fighting back more guttural cries. He was sweating profusely, still shaking, still unsteady on his feet, but he knew once the medics saw to him he would be more or less back in fighting form. 

Then he and his Knights would finish research and start planning on going to Phu for groundwork. There must be no more delays. They must find the map.

Kylo was left pacing in a limp, wincing for every step, teeth grit and hand clenching the hilt of his saber tightly as they slowed out of hyperspeed. Again he was rendered nearly boneless in relief to see his flagship, and then actually sat when he felt the familiar presence of Tomaxx, and Girl.   
  
It felt like a lifetime since he’d been back, but it had only been about five hours, maybe six. He was exhausted, and in need of serious medical attention, but it felt immensely less harrowing now that his ship was in view. Now that he could feel his enclave converging again. 

The _Finalizer_ was still on alert, ion canons following the shuttle until their identity was confirmed, and then they were breezing into the hangar, landing, a team of medics waiting to receive Kylo. 

He realized as he descended the ramp that the mess from earlier had already been cleared away—mainly, Wolson’s body. Kylo hadn’t noticed it when he’d been leaving before, but the unease from the medics reminded him now. He had killed one of their own just here, six hours ago. 

Kylo was surprised to see Captain Ithowim among the team, and he tensed, scowling as the medidroid began a preliminary scan. 

The medic spoke, and it was only by reading his lips that Kylo was able to fully understand him.

“I haven’t see you without your mask in so long, I almost didn’t recognize you, milord.”

Kylo sneered, stepping into the man’s space, trying to push down how vulnerable he felt being so unclothed by pulling up his anger through all the pain. 

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for your attitude, Ithowim? How are you not floating with the airlock trash right now?” 

The man had the decency to look more cautious, more put-in-place, perhaps disturbed by being able to actually _see_ Kylo’s ire now.

“The investigators found no wrongdoing or complicity on my part. And as I am the best medic on this ship, I was called to tend to you.”

“Oh, but you haven’t been investigated by _us_ yet,” Kylo bit back with a humorless and dark set to his gritted smile, Cseenan stepping up beside him, scales bristling. _“We_ will be the judge of your innocence.”

The droid beeped, drawing Ithowim’s strained gaze.

<left tympanic membrane perforation, multiple second- and third-degree burns, lacerations, and bleeding detected>

The medic eyed Kylo with stern unsettlement, focusing for a moment on the half-healed malformation on his chest, and then the set of his face changed to stoic professionalism within the blink of an eye, the threat of interrogation by Knights of Ren temporarily pushed aside.

“Do you need a gurney?”

Kylo twitched at another medic’s probing hand on the skin of his arm where a burn had begun leaking clear fluid, and Cseenan growled a warning, prompting her to back away quickly. Kylo drew himself up stiffly and bared his teeth at the Captain, already beginning to move.

“I’m not an invalid. I can _walk.”_

* * *

The Delta two medbay felt strange without Girl’s presence, and Kylo found himself pushing down an anxious feeling as he was tended to by medics and droids. The human staff had been almost completely replaced aside from Captain Ithowim as the investigation was ongoing and many others still needed to be interviewed. 

Kylo knew he himself would need to be interviewed as well, although he dared anyone to accuse him of complicity with the desertion. 

Tomaxx arrived at the medbay carrying his requested change of clothes, and the Chiss froze in the doorway of the private room, eyeing his master from behind his mask. Kylo tried to shrug it off, as if the burns and damage was like the usual injuries associated with their way of life. 

But they both knew this was not normal. 

After conversing with Cseenan in low tones, Tomaxx removed his helmet and approached where Kylo sat, red eyes scanning his chest with a rare glimpse of shock and awe, much like how the Barabel had looked on the shuttle. 

As the droid worked on Kylo’s ear and another droid meticulously applied a stronger grade of burn-specific bacta to the lightning wounds, the Knight pinned Kylo with an intense gaze.

“Is it true?”

“Yes,” Kylo murmured, but did not elaborate. He knew he would need to regale exactly what happened on the shuttle to the Chiss, but he was wary of the Captain, who was quietly prepping another droid off to the side. It felt too personal a thing to say out loud in front of others. 

Tomaxx eyed the starburst scarring again before it was covered by a droid’s bacta patch handiwork, and his countenance tensed into one of self-reproach.

“I should have been there.” His red eyes lifted, hooded beneath dark brows. “Cseenan and I should have taken responsibility.”

Like before, Kylo shook his head at the Knight, briefly dislodging the droid in his ear. 

“It is my duty as Master. Your failures are mine, and so your punishments are as well.”

Tomaxx’s voice reduced to a whisper. “This was no punishment.”

Kylo remained silent for a moment, wanting to deny what the Knight was insinuating, because Supreme Leader was wise, he only wanted to make Kylo stronger, and this reprimand had clearly been a test of Kylo’s strength, of his endurance. He was almost grateful for it, because it had proven it true. He _was_ strong. He _could_ endure. And it had proven that Kylo was powerful enough to heal himself.

“The Supreme Leader’s methods may seem extreme to us,” Kylo murmured, “but through them we will know true strength, true power. I would not have been able to do what I did without the extreme effects of it.”

“And you wouldn’t have needed to do it at all if he had punished you as normal,” Tomaxx argued lowly. 

“Enough,” Kylo growled, lacking the energy to make the command biting. 

The Chiss had the wherewithal to not argue further—perhaps remembering the witness among them—and so pressed his blue lips into a thin line and looked down again at the damage yet untreated.

Kylo frowned.

“Is Girl still in my rooms?”

Tomaxx nodded, still eyeing the injuries. “Yes, Master.”

Kylo allowed himself to feel relief, keeping it well within his mental walls this time.

“I assume there were no disturbances.”

“The security officers in charge of the investigation came by to interview the girl, but I sent them away, citing your absence.”

Kylo’s mouth turned down. Girl would need to be interviewed, there was no avoiding it, but it should pose no problem since she had been unwillingly taken. She would tell her story and they would leave her be. 

The Knight continued. “She suffered some nightmares, and a panic attack, but the attending medidroid did not appear concerned with her stress levels too much. Still, I attempted to coerce her into keeping calm.”

Kylo’s eyes snapped to the Chiss. “Coerce?”

Tomaxx looked up. “Not in the usual way, I assure you. But I told her you would punish the both of us if she ended up back in the medbay.”  
  
Kylo tensed. “And you thought that would help keep her _calm?”_

Tomaxx gave him a sardonic glance. “It certainly inspired her to try harder, although the panic attack was quite severe.” 

The master flinched and grit his teeth against a particularly sharp stab of pain.

“Don’t antagonize her further,” he strained, blinking and breathing through the wave of prickling. “You’ve done enough damage already. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.” He gave the Knight a serious look, reminding him that the matter of damaging his property had not been resolved as of yet.

The Chiss looked to the side, slightly chastened. “As I said, I did not use the usual methods, Master. I do not wish to cripple your things.” Then his brows furrowed in slight irritation. “She needs discipline, though. She’s not very well trained.”

“Not every planet has formal slave academies the likes of which are in the Ascendancy, Tomaxx,” Kylo muttered, wincing from a pinch in his ear canal from the droid. 

The Chiss’s eyes flashed. “Her lack of decorum deserves no excuses.”

Kylo wanted to ask Tomaxx if he knew of such matters because his family had owned slaves in the Ascendancy, but that would have been asking about his Dead Self, and they did _not_ talk about those things. So the man merely gave the Knight a silencing look, prompting him to acquiesce wordlessly and move back to Cseenan for more hushed conversing, leaving Kylo to silently submit to the rest of the droids’ healing work. 

After a small while the Captain finished typing on his datapad and turned to address Kylo.

“As the physician in charge, I recommend you stay the night here for observation on account of the severity of your wounds.”

“No.”

The medic looked both put-out and like he had anticipated such a response.

“Milord, your burns need close care, even with the bacta.”

“I have looked after worse injuries on my own,” Kylo grumbled.

The medic gave a resigned sigh.

“Very well. Once the droid is finished with your ear you will be free to dress and go. I will send a bacta ointment to your rooms for you to apply to your burns, twice daily, for four days. By then they should be healed with minimal scarring. You have some nerve damage and you may experience various muscle twitches and pains, but if you experience any swelling do _not_ attempt to ignore it, it could be Compartment Syndrome, which requires immediate medical attention to avoid cutting off vital circulation to your limbs and organs. How’s the hearing in your right ear now?”

“Adequate,” Kylo intoned, moving to stand as the droids finished and retreated. The hearing had returned but his left side was still muffled. 

Ithowim nodded. “Your left eardrum will require about a day to fully heal. I’ll send extra drops for your right side, and your eyes as well. The blood vessels have almost all burst. It’s a miracle you’re not blind.” He typed commands into the datapad, asking blithely, already knowing the answer, “Do you need any pain controllers?”

“No.” 

The medic shook his head, droning, “As always, your commitment to enduring pain needlessly is impressive.” The sarcasm proved his feelings otherwise.

Kylo was indeed in pain, his skin dewy with sweat from the strain of it all, and he _would_ endure. The bacta treatment was cooling for the most part anyways. By tomorrow there might not be any pain to concern himself with at all. No more than the usual, at least. 

Both Tomaxx and Cseenan looked like they were going to say something to defend their Master to the medic, but Kylo beat them to it, snapping, “As always, your comments on my choices for the matter are irrelevant and worthless, doctor.”

Ithowim looked up. “Apologies, milord.”

Cseenan bristled, eyes half black, snapping his teeth threateningly, and the medic froze, the blood draining quickly from his weathered face as he realized his grave mistake. 

“I— Lord Cs—“

“I wouldn’t say anything else,” Kylo warned lightly, straining slightly with a wince as he slipped on his undershirt over the many patches and bacta wraps, Tomaxx silently helping. “You’ll just piss him off more.”

Ithowim’s teeth clicked as he shut his mouth, and he stood rigidly as the Barabel stared him down and rhythmically clicked his claws. If the medic had said those words just four days ago, Kylo was sure Cseenan would have attacked him. But the Knight seemed much more in control now, much more balanced. Kylo did not forget that he had challenged him to a duel. He would be making right on that as soon as he was healed enough for it. 

With Tomaxx’s subtle help, Kylo continued dressing, pulling on his high-necked ribbed shirt, surcoat, and robes, trying not to show his panting from the effort as he slipped on his gloves and secured his belt. 

“Cseenan,” he said, voice tight from pain, and the Knight immediately turned his attention to the master. “My helmet and saber.”

The Knight dutifully handed the items over, and once Kylo had his lightsaber clipped to his belt, once he had his helmet on again, even with the added pains and throbbing aches of the rough cloth against his wounds, Kylo felt much of his tension melt away. He had donned his armor, his protection. He was unreadable again. 

As his Knights re-masked themselves, Kylo turned to the pale medic, the vocomodulator crackling. 

“We will come collect you for our own questioning at a later time, doctor.” 

The captain swallowed, straightening his spine in spite of his palpable apprehension, glancing at the Barabel. 

“I will await your summons, milord.”

“Good.” And with a final threatening look, Kylo walked out of the medbay, his Knights following as deadly shadows in his wake. 

He would question the captain, and the female medic, and anyone else who might have known something was happening. He and Tomaxx would dredge their thoughts and tear through any lies and falsehoods to get to the truth.

But first, he needed to see his slave. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOP.
> 
> Hey if you're curious what Kylo's burns sort of look like, there's actually a name for it: [Lichtenberg scar.](https://www.google.com/search?q=lichtenberg+scar&client=firefox-b-d&sxsrf=ALeKk034bs1u935QFPGru5l3Pt3FYr_6vQ:1596886482159&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj32Y_cwYvrAhXXaN4KHbaUAq4Q_AUoAXoECA0QAw&biw=1440&bih=826) They're actually really cool looking 👀 Definitely would not want to get hit by lightning tho 😬
> 
> I am very very excited for next chapter 👀 Hoooooo boy. I took a small break from writing today to just chill and draw a bit, but I'll try to spend Sunday and Monday just writing. Tuesday I have to go back to the immigration office for my official visa, but hopefully that whole trip will only take about five hours, and I'll be back home and writing by noon. I wish they had just mailed me my damn visa, but nooope. Not in Japan. Gotta go get it in person, two hours away. And they're only open on weekdays, from 9am to 3pm 🙃 Good thing I already have Tuesday off for Obon week. 
> 
> ANYWAYS.
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo returns to his rooms to find the investigation team.... 👀  
> Posting date: Wednesday, August 12th at 9PM Japan time.
> 
> [August 24, 2020 EDIT]  
> I drew another fanart! Here's basically what I have in mind for Kylo's wounds:


	50. Perjury for Privilege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl gives an account of the desertion to the investigators....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings! 
> 
>   
>   
> enjoy✨ 👁👄👁  
>   
> 

* * *

Kylo and his Knights exited the lift on his floor, the tension in his back from trying to keep himself from listing to the side reaching cramping levels as he saw the small group of officers standing outside his rooms. 

“Lord Ren,” the officer in charge greeted, exchanging a look with his second-in-command as the robed group approached. “We heard you came back, but we were under the impression that you were indisposed in the medbay.”

“Then why are you standing outside my rooms?” Kylo growled, hoping the twitch he felt in his shoulder wasn’t visible.

“We were going to wait until tomorrow to request speaking to the slave girl, but the general wants the investigation done as swiftly as possible and has ordered us to do it now.”

Kylo’s fists clenched at his sides, the air going cold around him. “Did he now.”

He had never wanted to kill Hux more than he did right then. It took more willpower than he had ever used before to stop and hold himself still, keeping himself from turning and marching back to the lift to ascend to the Bridge and hack the snake to pieces. 

The officers could sense his anger, evidently, by the stressed looks they cast about, as if the security droid—L6, _another joy_ —would save them, as if Kylo’s Knights wouldn’t gut every last one of them on his command anyways. 

“We’ll be very quick, milord,” the officer assured him with crumbling composure. “We just need to hear her account.”

Kylo took a breath in, the movement of his chest pulling on the bandages and making his burns sting. It was not helping his mood, and he wanted to tell the officers to get _the fuck_ away from him and don’t come back until he calls for them again, but he did not want to be accused of meddling with an investigation. Not with Hux apparently holding all of his transgressions against him and squealing to Snoke like a youngling tattle-tale. It would be best for everyone involved if he let them do their business and then leave.

“You had better be quick,” he warned them with a seething tone. 

“Yes, milord,” they nodded, and Kylo opened his door with the twitch of his hand. 

Girl stood shakily from the couch as he entered, and again he felt his body relax a fraction to see her, _here,_ not gone. Not taken. 

She glanced at the small group behind him, but focused mostly on him, her face belying the anxiety and, interestingly enough, _guilt,_ that plagued her. But aside from her fretting, she looked much more put-together in spite of her sallowness—no longer affected by the tranquilizer, he hoped. 

The blanket was neatly folded on the couch, her hair no longer a mess having been redone into three neat buns, the sleeves of his too-big shirt rolled back precisely, exposing her delicate wrists and the medidroid lines attached. Whether she’d tried to clean up for him or the visiting officers, he found himself appreciating it nonetheless. Tidiness was fundamental to his way of life. 

“Lord Ren,” she greeted, voice quavering with emotion, hands clutched together at her middle. “You’re back.”

He approached, pretending to check the medidroid’s small holoscreen readout beside her as the others filed in and prepared themselves. 

“Yes,” Kylo murmured. “As I said I would.” Although he did not bear good news for her. Snoke’s command tore at him, but he could not disobey—

“Thank you.”

Kylo froze. 

It was so quietly spoken, and his ears still so affected that he thought he’d misheard her. But her upturned face, so open in spite of her obvious attempts to control it, was evidence enough that he hadn’t. It made him briefly feel guilty for even leaving in the first place. It was like looking in a mirror from a different angle. He did not like it. 

He didn’t know how to reply, but he was saved by Tomaxx, who appeared at his elbow. Girl’s eyes flickered with unease again, her expression closing, her head turning down and away.

Kylo looked at the Knight but Tomaxx surprised him by speaking to Girl instead.  
  
“They’re here to interview you now,” he said quietly. “Remember what I told you.” 

At her strained glance and small nod, he stepped away again. 

Kylo was about to ask what the _kriff_ that meant, but the officer spoke up.

“Shall we begin, milord?”

He turned, taking a sharp breath in and stiffening as the motion sent pain up his torso.

“Yes,” he said, thankful his mask covered up the strangled sound. 

The officer nodded, and his second-in-command motioned to L6. The droid floated closer, it’s photosensor zeroed in on a nervous Girl, who stood beside Kylo. 

<submit your identichip for inspection>

Girl frowned, looking at the officers in confusion.  
  
“Identichip?”

“I have it,” Kylo told them, calling the item to _zip_ from his bedside table in the other room to his waiting hand. The officers were mildly disturbed by the act, but Girl looked at him with widened eyes, intrigued, before schooling her features again. 

He presented the chip to the droid, which scanned it, Girl looking on curiously. 

<Name?> L6 asked.

“Girl,” she replied.

<First Order code, sector, command officer?>

“KR02, Knights of Ren, Kylo Ren,” Kylo answered for her.

L6’s eye swiveled to him.  
  
<subject must answer>

Kylo let out a strained breath and then looked at Girl to have her repeat after him, but she spoke.

“First Order code is ..KR..02,” she began slowly, checking with a hesitant look at Kylo. Slightly surprised at her quick memory, he nodded in encouragement, and she continued. 

“Sector is Knights of Ren.”

<command officer?> L6 prompted again when she hesitated for too long. 

Girl took a small breath, voice cracking slightly.

“Kylo Ren.”

A shiver ran across his skin at the sound, and he realized that it was the first time he’d heard her say his full name. Something about her accent made it sound almost soft. 

It was a small moment before L6 beeped again, <Identity validated>

Kylo took the chip back, holding it in his hand as opposed to tucking it into his belt, wary of his burning midsection. Someday soon he would give it to Girl for her safekeeping and use about the ship, but for now he would keep it. 

The droid floated back, <recording commencing>, as the lead officer stepped forward, reading from his datapad. 

“We are here to investigate the crimes committed by medical corpsman Sergeant Ferric Wolson and stormtrooper FN-2187. The offenders stand accused of crimes committed as follows: lying with intention to commit desertion, theft of a droid key, theft of medical supplies, attempted theft of an escape pod, arson, releasing of a prisoner without authorization, fratricide, moral delinquency involving another officer, and desertion. The penalty stands as execution by BL-155 Laser axe.” He looked up, and Girl paled, nodding silently to show she was listening.

The officer continued. “As you were directly involved with the desertion, your testimony is paramount to confirm the eye-witness accounts already recorded, as well as to either sustain or disprove your culpability, and therefore your innocence. We will be recording your answers on secured audiochips, the transcript of which will be added to the security logs under code TR-094. Lord Ren, do we have your official permission to question your slave, Girl, about the aforementioned crimes?”

“Yes.” _And be quick about it._

“Very well. Girl,” the officer turned back to her, “If any of your answers are proven to be anything but the truth, you will be charged with perjury and sentenced to death for conspiracy to aid in desertion. Do you understand everything I have just told you?”

“Yessir,” she rasped, her expression serious but her emotions spiking with anxiety. 

Kylo frowned, eyeing her silently. He understood how intimidating such a procedure could seem to a slave, especially one that had gotten swept up in something so serious. He briefly wondered if he should tell her to sit, but that might inspire the officers to take their time, which he did not want. He wanted to have this all over with quickly so he could speak to his underlings alone.

The officer made a note on his datapad, reading, “When did you first come into contact with Sergeant Wolson and FN-2187?”

Girl’s brows furrowed in thought. “Um, I suppose Sergeant Wolson helped clean me when I came out of the bacta tank,” she said, “But I don’t really remember it well.”

“And FN-2187?”

“I think…I think I remember seeing him outside my room in the medbay, walking by,” she voiced, “but the first time he spoke to me was when he came in, to..to take me out.”  
  
“And by that you mean the first time he spoke to you was while he and Sergeant Wolson were in the act of committing desertion?”

“Yessir.”

“Did you have any contact at all with them prior to being admitted to the medbay?”

Her young face furrowed slightly. “Contact…prior to the medbay?”

The officer looked up. “Yes, did you see them, or engage in conversation? Did they come here?”

Her anxiety spiked, her expression blank, as she lied, “No, sir.”

Kylo’s knee-jerk reaction was to round on Girl for lying, but he held himself still to avoid aggravating his wounds or giving her away. He would ask her about this later.

When had she come into contact with either traitor? She’d been locked in his rooms the entire time before the medbay—

_Except when she got out to the corridor_ , he remembered. He still did not know how, but now he had an idea. Did one of them let her out?

The officer continued, scanning his datapad.  
  
“In the medbay while he attended to you, did Sergeant Wolson say anything to you that might have given you the impression that he was planning to desert?”

Girl thought for a moment, and then said, “No, sir,” this time not quite a lie, but not the total truth either. 

Kylo did tense up this time, grateful his mask hid his pained wince.

What was this lying? Had Wolson said something? Had she known something all along?

“Did you see him speaking to anyone else in a way that might be considered suspicious?”

She frowned.  
  
“I…did not see anything, no, sir.”

“Can you think of anyone that might have relevant information pertaining to the desertion of Sergeant Wolson and FN-2187?”

“Maybe…” Guilt flared, and she looked down. “Maybe Captain Ithowim? Or Officer Berg? They’re the only other ones I know. I didn’t see or speak to anyone else in the medbay.”

He typed more, and Girl fidgeted slightly, stilling herself after glancing at Kylo, who was doing his damnedest to keep from swaying to the side. 

His body was flushing hot, sweat pooling beneath his many layers. Even in his cold rooms where he was usually quite comfortable, he was boiling, his skin tingling and twitching and stinging. He wanted to sit, but he did not want to give away his waning strength. So instead he gingerly crossed his arms, the all-encompassing pain from such an act sharpening his mind and helping him to pull on the Force and hold himself steady. 

The officer looked back up. 

“Now, please say, for the record, what happened yesterday in the medbay, starting with what you can recall happening before the first alarm, when the escape pod was discovered.”

_Yesterday?_ Kylo thought, eyeing his chrono with a jolt. _Kriff,_ it was 01:00 in night-cycle. Nearly 24 hours since all of this desertion mess had begun. It felt like days had passed.

“I had been sleeping,” Girl began, “and then Sergeant Wolson woke me up. I remember feeling very strange, very dizzy, and confused. He had taken my restraints off—“

“You were restrained?” Another officer asked.

“Yes,” she said, head bowing in shame. “It was punishment for spilling juice and pulling out my IV lines in a fit.”

“I see,” said the first officer, frowning and making a note. “Continue.”

“Sergeant Wolson told me he wanted me to practice walking, so we did, and then he said he had to check on something and he left. A few minutes later, the alarm went off.”

“So you were completely unaware of any plan for desertion at this time?”

“Yessir.”

Kylo spoke up, voice rough. “She was drugged at the time.”

“Drugged?” The officer said, brows up in surprise. 

“Yes, with Flunitrazepam and it’s reversal drug.”

Girl nodded. “Right, Sergeant Wolson told me he drugged me to make me fall asleep, but he gave me too much which is why the other one made me feel so ill.”

Kylo frowned, the information new to him. 

The officer was also puzzled. “Why did Sergeant Wolson drug you?”

Girl looked down again. “He said he wanted to make Lord Ren go away. He was there checking on me.”

“Why did Sergeant Wolson want Lord Ren to go away?”

She fidgeted. “Because…he didn’t like Lord Ren. And he wanted to take me away in the escape pod.”

The officer frowned. “And why did he want to take you away?”

Girl stared at the floor, a dark pallor coming over her. 

“Because he pitied me.”

“I see,” the officer murmured, glancing at Kylo and then typing something.  
  
Kylo scowled beneath his mask. _The damn rumors._

The officer continued, “So you were awoken by Sergeant Wolson, who had drugged you, then the alarm went off. And then what did you do?”

“Lord Ren told me to lock myself in the ‘fresher if I ever felt unsafe, so I did,” Girl said. “Then he found me, and…”

“And what?”

Kylo remembered. The anger, the confusion. Choking her, accusing her of lying. 

“And we tried to figure out what happened,” she said quietly. “But I couldn’t remember well. And when Sergeant Wolson was called in to be questioned he…he lied. He said he didn’t wake me and he didn’t know about the drugs. He didn’t want to be caught, because he wanted to try to escape again.”

“He told you this?”

“Yessir.”

“And then what happened?”

She struggled to speak for a moment, avoiding looking at Kylo altogether. He didn’t blame her. His self reproach for how he had punished her came back anew. 

“Lord Ren reminded me to behave,” she murmured, “and to tell the truth if I remembered anything. And then he left, and I was restrained again, and I tried to sleep.”

It was another untruth, but he would not fault her for it.   
  
“Did you see Sergeant Wolson within that time?” The officer asked.

“No, just Captain Ithowim and officer Berg. Sometimes I could see the soldier standing outside my room, but he only came in later.”

“The soldier? You mean FN-2187?”

“Yessir,” she nodded. “He came in and undid my restraints and told me that we needed to go. That he was freeing me.”

Girl’s anxiety was rising again, her hands clasped tightly at her diaphragm, her eyes fixed on the officer’s chest. Kylo found himself watching her closely, eyes narrowed, uncertain now what she would say. His heart pounded, his skin prickling from something other than his many wounds.

“Was Sergeant Wolson with him?”

She shook her head. “Sergeant Wolson came in after, when….when I wouldn’t go with the soldier.”

“What happened then?”

Girl took a couple breaths, swallowed, and opened her mouth to speak.

“He—“ she choked off with a cough, devolving into such a fit that the droid procured a small cup of water for her, beeping a small warning. She took it and sipped at it, finally looking up at Kylo over the rim, and the expression in her eyes brought him up short. 

They seemed almost _pleading,_ but he didn’t have time to truly absorb and process what she meant with it before she was finishing the water, looking down again and clearing her throat. 

“‘scuse me,” she rasped. 

“Please continue when you’re ready,” the officer said. 

Girl nodded, beginning again.  
  
“After I wouldn’t go with the soldier, Sergeant Wolson came in.” She cleared her throat again, took another breath, and then, 

Girl lied,

“He drugged me again, and took me from the medbay.”

“Against your will?”

“Yessir,” she rasped, another lie.  
  
Kylo could see Cseenan tensing, bristling, and then Tomaxx was gripping his arm to speak silently to him from their standing positions behind the officers, calming him somewhat, but Kylo really needed him to be there next to himself because there was a dull roaring in his ears now, the air turning frigid, a shiver passing through the officers who were immediately wary of the Dark Lord again, immediately on alert at his obvious change of mood. 

Girl just breathed steadily, eyes on the floor, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. 

Kylo wanted to grab her right then, wanted to shake her, to demand from her, _why is that a lie?_

Instead, he flexed his arms, tightening them across his chest, the pain shooting stars into his vision and making him pant for air, breath heavy in his burning ribcage. 

He would be wringing the truth from her later like water from a rag after all. 

The ache in his chest from the betrayal distracted him from most of what else she said, retelling how Wolson lied to the female medic, how he “dragged” Girl down the corridor, how they split up after the stormtrooper detonated the bomb, how Sergeant Wolson inexplicably told her all of his plans along the way. 

What was the truth? When did he really drug her? _Why was it a lie that she went against her will?_

“…we got to the hangar, and while we waited for the soldier to arrive, I realized what was happening, and I realized I couldn’t let it happen. When the soldier appeared with the other man, I tried to fight the sergeant off, but…” she looked up at Kylo again, another pleading look in her eyes. “…but I was too weak.”

_“I tried to fight him off but, I was too weak. The kriffing bastard stuck me in the thigh.”_

Her drugged words in the lift came back to him, and his mind churned. Was that the truth, then? Did Wolson drug her in the hangar? 

The possibility settled him somewhat, but it did not soothe the stinging he felt.

The other officer spoke up again, moderately disbelieving, “I can’t help but wonder, why you did not go with them willingly? Why would you fight against someone trying to free you?”

Girl glanced at him, her expression slightly indignant.

“Because it is a privilege to be Lord Ren’s slave. It is not something to be shucked off for the illusion of freedom.” 

It was a truth, and Kylo was left reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Girl looked down again, scowling and mumbling, “And I’m not stupid; they would have sold me to the highest bidder at the nearest outpost to rid themselves of an extra mouth to feed and to add to their travel monies.”

“Yes, well,” the officer said, giving Kylo a telling look. “It’s rather refreshing to hear a slave recognize their place and truly commit to it. You should be commended, Lord Ren, for finding such a rare breed of servant.”

Kylo did not reply, merely inclined his head in acknowledgment. She was a rare breed of _something._

“And perhaps you will be rewarded for your loyalty, Girl,” the officer continued with a patronizing tone.

“Being allowed to serve is all the reward I need,” she answered quietly. 

The officers exchanged amused looks. 

“A rare breed indeed,” the lead officer repeated, then quickly returned to seriousness as another cold wave passed over the room. Kylo was not so amused. 

“Is there anything else you can remember?”

She stood thinking, and then nodded. “Lord Ren and his apprentices showed up, and Sergeant Wolson tried to shoot him, but I pushed him away—” 

Again Kylo was surprised. She had put herself in the way of a blaster to protect him? 

“—Then Lord Ren killed him, while Lord Tomaxx and Lord Cseenan went to try and stop the soldier and the man from taking the shuttle.” Her face turned apologetic. “After that….it gets very difficult to remember. The drugs were very strong. And I was very tired.”

“Very well, that’s all we needed anyways,” the officer typed more notes, finishing his report quickly. “If you remember anything else pertinent, you will tell your master so it can be recorded and added to the investigation.”

“Yessir.”

He held out the datapad. “Place your hand here.”

She did as told, and he recited, 

“Do you swear that you have spoken the truth, to the best of your ability, to the afore-asked questions, and that you were not coerced in any way to give misleading or false statements?”

“Yes, I swear,” she said, hopefully the last lie. The datapad flashed, taking an imprint of her palm.

“Then I hear-by conclude this interview.” The officer tucked the datapad away and turned. “Lord Ren, thank you for your time and patience.”

“As always, the pleasure is mine,” Kylo droned tensely. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to _get out_.”

The officers stood at attention, giving sharp salutes before filing out the door, L6 hovering behind. 

As soon as the door shut behind them Kylo turned on Girl, fists at his sides, identichip thrown on the couch to avoid crushing it, but before he could explode at her she was already cowering, speaking, pleading,

“Lord Ren I lied to them but I promise I will tell you the full truth, please, Sir, _please_ give me a chance to explain.”

Kylo stood, shaking from anger, shaking from pain and damaged nerves and muscles, shaking from a stabbing in his heart that told him he shouldn’t have trusted her word, he shouldn’t have trusted her at all. 

But, 

He remembered the Force ringing in her vow to him, he remembered her hand grasping his robes, he remembered Tomaxx’s words, and her pleading look, and _“it’s a privilege to be Lord Ren’s slave”._

And so he took several steadying breaths, and tried to keep himself from reacting thoughtlessly. Because how many times had things become misconstrued? How many times had he lashed out at her, punishing her, _abusing_ her, needlessly? 

No, he would not be so weak and careless anymore. 

“Master,” Tomaxx said, stepping forward. “I told her to lie.”

Kylo felt another stab of pain. 

“You _knew?”_

“She told me while you were away. I had thought the truth would be explained the right way, which is why I didn’t say anything. But then the investigators showed up—“

Kylo raised his hand in a silencing motion, causing his skin to shriek with pain and Girl to flinch and tremble silently. 

Breathing through the throbbing sting, Kylo ground out,

“You will tell me the truth now, Girl. I will hear all of it.” He pointed a stern finger at her. _“All of it.”_

She nodded her head quickly, insistently, “Yessir, I promise.” Then turned to pick up the folded blanket, setting it on the arm of the couch with a quiet, “Please sit, Sir—“

“No,” Kylo shook his head, and Girl stopped, looking at him anxiously. 

Their group relied on trust to survive, and she was omitting things out of fear of retribution from him. He _could not_ allow that. He needed her to speak freely to him, without fear. He needed her to trust him.

He pointed to his bedroom.

“We’re sitting at the Table.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubbing hands together with a toothy grin* ohhhh booyyyy we finally get to have a Table Talk!! 😃🙌 the first of many 👀
> 
> Ommgg guys. SO. excited 🤩
> 
> I just wanted to take a moment to say that holy shit I've written FIFTY chapters for this story, AND I've officially broken 200k words in my main document. I never ever thought I would ever get to this point in any story, EVER. This has been such a huge labor of love, one that I gladly continue to take on because it's been helping me keep it together through all the craziness of 2020. We've got sooooooooo much more to this story to go-- ending with beautiful sexy Reylo goodness of course 😜-- and I am so excited to keep going on this fun journey with you!  
> And, I would like to thank everyone who has stayed with this slow-burn-of-the-ages, both since the beginning and hopping on the wagon along the way. Your support and friendship means the world to me ❤️😭 I wouldn't enjoy writing this story nearly as much without you ❤️😭❤️😭❤️  
> And of course, thank you to my beta reader, Brad, AKA English_Breakfast, who takes time out of his busy days to read this fic, even though it's so layered and complicated he has to keep an actual notebook to keep track of everything 😂 I appreciate you! 😁✨❤️
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey finally tells the whole truth to Lord Ren and the Knights...  
> Posting date: Sunday, August 16th 9PM Japan time


	51. The First Bolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey tells Lord Ren the full truth of what happened....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings :D
> 
> [EDIT] IM SO SORRY I DIDNT REPLY TO ANY MESSAGES LAST CHAPTER. ILL GET TO THEM THIS WEEK I PROMISE.

* * *

_“We’re sitting at the Table.”_  
  
Rey froze, following Lord Ren’s arm with her eyes, unsure if he had meant what he had just said, or if he just didn’t want to sit on the couch. 

The Table? Where he said she could tell him things, without threat of punishment? 

He would _not_ be punishing her for this?

“The table…” she repeated, uncertain, probing. 

“Yes.” Lord Ren rumbled, voice crackling, arm lowering stiffly. 

He was obviously in pain. Rey recognized the signs: rigid posture, wary movements, tensing and quick breaths. She had gone through it enough times to know what a beaten person looked like. But then there was the added symptom special to her master—the air was _frigid_ around him.   
  
What happened to him? And why didn’t he want to punish her for this?

“The Archives room would be more secure for this type of conversation,” Lord Tomaxx said.

Lord Ren shook his head.  
  
“We will do it here. It’s secure enough.”

The Barabel Knight spoke up, claws motioning to the medidroid.  
  
“The droid is not secure.”

They all turned to look at it, the temperature dropping further.

“It heard Girl admitting to lying,” Lord Tomaxx murmured, reaching for his lightsaber. “I’ll take care of it.”

Rey stepped in front of it without thinking, rasping, “Wait!” 

As the room stilled and Lord Tomaxx tensed with affront, Rey quickly kneeled by the droid’s control hatch.

“Most droid memories typically work on six minute cycles,” she told them, prying it open and feeling around inside for the central memory chip, “where the recorded information isn’t put into deeper, long-term memory formats until minute seven.” She pulled the chip, and at the same time she pressed the connector switch, forcing the bot to switch off with a soft descending whir. 

“If you take out the memory chip and reboot the droid at the same time, then replace the chip, it interrupts the cycle and forces it to reformat the current six-minute cycle, erasing all of the un-stored memory.” She waited five seconds and then turned it back on, forcing the memory chip back into place. 

She sat back, and they watched the droid expectantly, her heart pounding in her chest, hoping that her trick worked right. 

As the droid booted back up, its photosensor eye sought out Rey, and another cup of water appeared from its supplement compartment, beeping a prompt. 

She let out a shaky breath. _It worked_.

Rey took the cup of water with a quiet thanks, then looked up at the staring Lords.

“I suppose I had my coughing fit seven minutes ago.”

_When I told the biggest lie of my life._

After a long, tense moment, Lord Ren nodded stiffly. 

“Good thinking.” 

Rey felt warm from the praise, although it was tainted by her anxiety and guilt.

He looked at Lord Tomaxx.  
  
“We have to refrain from damaging anymore droids. We’ll send it out.”

Rey rose unsteadily, placing the cup down and looking at the IV port on the back of her arm with a frown. Was she to take it out, _again?_

Suddenly warm black gloved hands grasped her arm, and she jolted, looking up at her master, a protestation on her lips. 

“D-don’t pull it—“

“Shh, We’ll just detach the line. Leave the port in,” Lord Ren mumbled, deftly closing the valve and gently removing the IV tube and letting it drop, liquid spilling out on the floor before the droid shut it off with a warning whine. 

Rey was slightly shaken, not moving from the sudden contact, her skin tingling and prickling strangely all over, until he tugged on her freed arm.

“Go, sit.”

She removed the heart monitor clipped to her wrist and did as he said, pausing in the doorway and turning quickly when she heard a stumble.

_“Master,”_ Lord Cseenan rasped as both Knights flanked Lord Ren, who was leaning against the droid, breathing heavily. 

“Perhaps we should wait until you’ve rested,” Lord Tomaxx said. “Your wounds—“

“Will be there tomorrow as well,” Lord Ren said with an electronic hiss. “I just need to sit.”

“Then we sit,” Lord Cseenan growled.

Lord Ren shook his head and waved their helping hands away, sounding breathless even through the vocomodulator.

“Don’t. Don’t touch.”

Rey frowned in worry and fresh guilt. What did his master _do_ to him?

Lord Ren managed to get himself upright again on his own, and then, medidroid sent out to the corridor, they all ended up in his bedroom. The door was shut, Rey and master sat at the table, Lord Tomaxx leaning against the footboard of the bed, Lord Cseenan crouched on the floor beside him. 

Rey felt bad that she was sitting in a chair while the apprentices were chair-less, but as it was their Master’s command, she decided to try to ignore her discomfort. 

And she wasn’t sure sitting at the table would even be worth the small break in decorum. Rey was pretty sure her true story would warrant her punishment no matter what Lord Ren had promised her, since she was sure the Knights would see to it she got her due no matter what.

She deserved it, especially seeing how much pain he was in. 

Should he even be here right now? Why wasn’t he in the medbay?

“Girl,” Lord Ren said, drawing her attention where it had been scanning him for signs of damage. He certainly didn’t seem to be so injured as to need immediate emergency medical attention the way it had sounded before. Was this really 'worse than all times before?' 

But then there was the strange smoky smell—

“You lied several times,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “I want the truth. No excuses, no leaving anything out.”

Rey nodded. “Yessir,” she said, placing her hands flat against the cold tabletop. She shivered from the weight of the hidden gazes on her, but pretended that she was just giving a report, nothing unusual, nothing monumental. If she thought about it too much she was going to pass out.

“Did you know that they were planning to leave?” Lord Ren asked.

“No, Sir.”

“Then why did you lie about Wolson saying suspicious things?”

Rey kept her eyes on her hands.  
  
“When he took me to wash up, he told me you were a monster, that you all practiced in dark magic, that he suspected I might be some sort of sacrifice for a dark ritual. He was worried he was healing me only to be led back to slaughter.”

“He said that?” Lord Ren asked. 

Rey swallowed, nodding. “Yessir. I thought…I thought that since I didn’t tell anyone what he said, it might seem like I was hiding his words. But I was just…afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Rey dipped her chin, voice small, nervous and embarrassed.  
  
“Afraid it might be _true.”_

The room was quiet.

“Fair enough,” Lord Ren rumbled. “But we’ve never planned anything of the sort, for anyone, least of all you.”

Rey nodded, voice quiet, “Okay.”

“Wolson told you he drugged you the first time to get me out of the medbay?”

“Yessir. He said he wasn’t sure how long you’d be around, and he wanted to try to escape again.”

“Again?” Lord Tomaxx asked, mask tilted. “That wasn’t the first time?”

“No, they had started to try before, but it didn’t work.” 

Lord Ren stiffened. “Was that when you got out of the rooms, before?”

Rey shook her head. “No, it was before even that, apparently.” Her escape to the corridor was not something she was looking forward to explaining, since she could hardly make sense of it herself. It would be for another time, hopefully. 

She took a small, shaky breath. “Remember when I told you about the person I felt outside the door?”

He was still as he thought.

“You said it was probably a passing officer,” she added, “going to use the express lift.”

“I remember.”

Rey felt herself shrinking, afraid to be reminding her master of a mistake he’d made. He was probably going to get angry. It was partly why she’d lied about it. 

“It was the soldier,” she said quietly. “He had come to take me then. But his droid key didn’t work on your door.”

The room was quiet for a moment as it processed the information, Rey waiting to be accused of making things up, of being disobedient, of being a brat. Waiting for pain. Troog had not been kind to her the times she had pointed out his mistakes. Lord Ren’s temper was ten times that of the Gorgon master.

But no pain came. It was cold, and Rey shivered, but there was no explosion of ego or anger. 

“He could have stolen you just days after I brought you…” Lord Ren murmured, a crackle of sound, of shock almost. “But why?”

“He saw you take me on Jakku,” she answered, peeking up, shoulders rising. “And then because of the rumors…about…your supposed _use_ of me…he was _…….concerned….”_

“Are troopers capable of feeling such things as that?” Lord Cseenan rasped, bristling. “Aren’t they supposed to be machine-like?”

“For every hundred-thousand droids produced,” Lord Tomaxx murmured, “There are bound to be one or two defective units. The stormtroopers are no different.”

The Barabel’s tail swished across the floor. “And somehow the two defective units found each other, here, on this ship?”  
  
Lord Ren finally spoke up, voice low, “The Force has a way of bringing things together.”

“You think this was all the workings of the Force?” Lord Cseenan asked, stilling.

Lord Ren nodded slowly, musing, “Everything is as the Force wills it. It brought us together, didn’t it? I believe we were destined for this, as if the way were programmed for us.”

“And I am the glitch, causing malfunction,” Rey mumbled. “Unintended, from birth.” 

It was quiet again, and Rey flushed from her outspokenness. She shouldn’t have said that. It revealed too much.

But Lord Ren spoke up, an almost affronted tone to his voice, as if he was insulted that she would imply anything to the contrary, 

“You have a purpose here, Girl. You have a place.”

She looked up, brow furrowed, yearning for it to be true. She _had_ said she needed someone to show her her place, and Lord Ren had accepted her oath. It gave her some hope that maybe he would actually be taking her up on her plea, instead of taking her servitude and giving nothing back.

“I saw a vision,” he said, and Rey froze.

What? A vision? Of _her?_

If he experienced visions, maybe he would understand her Bad Feeling, maybe he would believe her.

Lord Tomaxx’s head was tilted, and Rey wondered if he would accuse his master of misinterpreting feelings the same way he had accused her, but he spoke, 

“What did you see, Master?”

Lord Ren was pensive for a moment.

“I saw something in the corridor, when we were heading to the escape pods after the explosion,” he replied quietly. “Something that told me to go to the hangar instead.”

The room paused, thinking.

“If we had gone on to the escape pods,” Lord Tomaxx began ponderously.

“The medic would have snatched the pet and gone away on the shuttle,” Lord Cseenan finished.

“Exactly,” their master rumbled. “The Force wanted us to get to her in time.”

They all turned to look at Rey, and she looked between them, bewildered.

“But…I’m just a slave. In the grand scheme of things I’m…”  
  
_nothing._

Rey didn’t understand it. 

“Why…” 

Why would the Force help him save her? She was less than nothing—she was a parasite, a waste of water and space. She was a shame on Force-sensitives. She should never have been born. 

Lord Ren shook his head slightly.  
  
“Stop. The Force does not make mistakes. It is only from we who try to change what it has destined for us, that wrongness and imbalance is created. I found you on Jakku because you were destined to be in that spot, as I was destined to sense you. And I was directed to the hangar so that I might be there to keep you from being stolen away. You are meant to be here, to serve me. You are not a fluke. You are not a glitch. Do you understand?”

Speechless and shaken, Rey nodded. She glanced at the two apprentices to see if they would say anything to argue with Lord Ren, but they were silent, almost somber. 

“Good,” he gave a curt nod. Then, leaning forward stiffly, hands fisted on the table, he commanded her, “Now, tell me what happened in the medbay.”

The tension increased again, and Rey looked back down at her hands sweating on the table to try and quell her extreme unease under so many intense gazes. She wasn’t sure if actually seeing all of their eyes would have made it any better, but it couldn’t be worse than the dark weight of their hidden stares. 

“After you left, after you punished me,” she began, “I did try to sleep, and I did only see Captain Ithowim and Officer Berg. The soldier was standing outside my room—“

“Why?” Lord Tomaxx asked. “Why was there a stormtrooper in the medbay at all?”

“Sergeant Wolson said he—“

Rey cut off as Lord Ren suddenly jolted, his body going rigid, an electric hiss escaping his mask. His gloves creaked from his tightening fists on the table. 

Lord Cseenan stood, being closest, taking a step. “Master?”

Lord Ren shook his head minutely, his body slackening somewhat. “Nothing. Just a spasm. Continue.”

“Are you sure?” Rey asked, glancing at the Knights to check, her chest tingling strangely. 

The Barabel snarled, “Just be quick about it. Quit _dragging.”_

Rey shrank back, nodding quickly.  
  
“Yessir.”

“Cseenan,” their master warned with a strained voice, prompting the Knight to click his claws and return to his crouched position with a soft sub-tonal growl. 

After a beat Lord Ren looked back at her.  
  
“Continue.”

Rey eyed him worriedly but did as he said. 

“Sergeant Wolson told me he had FN-2187 posted in the medbay to sneak supplies out and be ready for when I came out of the tank.”

Lord Tomaxx looked to their master.  
  
“I was under the impression the trooper had been your idea, Master. To protect the slave.”

Rey blinked, surprised. 

“Originally he was there to protect the medics from _me,_ actually,” Lord Ren grumbled. “My anger at their lack of efficiency had not made a good impression. But, after Hux showed up to slither about the tank, and with everything falling out of balance between us, I told the trooper to make sure no one but medical staff got near, as a precaution.”

Rey realized that quite a lot of things had happened while she was in the bacta. She didn’t know who ‘Hux’ was, but anything that slithered was typically not a good thing. And they all had fallen out of balance? Was that her doing as well? 

Did Lord Ren defend her, to his apprentices? Did they _fight,_ besides what happened in the corridor? He had already defended her against his master before, and now suffered a severe punishment because of her. What else had gone awry because of her?

Rey had a dawning realization that swearing herself to him had probably been the best thing she could have ever done, not only for herself but also to honor her master’s many sacrifices he had committed on her behalf up til now. She had sworn herself to serve him, but it was _he_ who had done so much for _her._

How could she repay him, with anything less than her life itself? She understood more now why his apprentices were so loyal. To have a master this dedicated was rare.

Lord Ren continued, his voice low, unhappy, “Evidently I overestimated his abilities, although I did not imagine you would go against my command, Tomaxx Ren.”

The apprentice inclined his head in stiff yielding.  
  
“Apologies again, Master. It was not a venture made on selfish grounds.”

“That it had to be done at all is a failing on my part,” Lord Ren murmured, and Rey realized what they were talking about and felt her stomach clench, her face turn hot. 

Lord Cseenan looked about, head tilted in confusion.  
  
“What?”

They were going to talk about how Lord Tomaxx had forced himself into her head, and she was going to have to listen to them, listen to the justifications, maybe they would even laugh, or ridicule her for being so affected by it. Rey squirmed in her seat, head lowered, skin prickling with sudden cold sweat. 

“Later,” Lord Ren said instead, and she panted in relief, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Girl.”

She looked up, heart pounding. 

“What happened when the trooper and Wolson came into your room?”

_This was it._ The truth, coming out at last. 

“The soldier undid my restraints,” she began, “he told me he was freeing me, that we needed to go. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere.”

His mask tilted. “So you were unwilling— at first.”

Rey nodded fervently.  
  
“Yessir.”

“Hm. Then what happened.”

“Then Sergeant Wolson came in, and…”

She swallowed, her mouth and throat so dry all of a sudden. Her chest was aching and she tried to blink the spots out of her vision. 

“Breathe, Girl,” Lord Ren quietly commanded.   
  
There were tears now too, but she hastily wiped them away, determined not to appear so weak in front of the person who was by all accounts suffering far more. 

“…I was—” she cleared her throat, tried to swallow past the tightness, “—I thought about pressing the alarm button, but he…he told me that…if I did, you would come and kill all of us, that you would torture me for information about knowing them and the escape. Th-they said you and Lord Tomaxx would t-take turns going in my head, destroying my mind, and, and then Lord Cseenan would t-tear me apart.”

Rey trembled, from fear and adrenaline and cold sweat, as if speaking the words would speak the possibility back into existence. As if telling them would spur them into action, giving them ideas of how she should be punished. 

“And you believed him?” Lord Ren asked, a low crackle of sound.

She looked up, voice hoarse.  
  
“After everything that has happened, how could I _not?”_

It was quiet, and Rey felt a sense of deja vu mixed with dread. _Are you that kind of monster?_

In this case, yes.

Lord Ren did not respond, perhaps recognizing her reasoning as sound. His fists relaxed, smoothing flat. 

“And so you went with them, willingly.”

“Yes,” Rey confessed brokenly.

“You were going to escape with them on the shuttle.”

“Yes.” 

Lord Cseenan leapt to his feet again, hissing, _“Traitor.”_  
  
Rey scrambled to put the chair between herself and the Barabel, back pressed against the wall, eyes wide and breath ragged.

“N-no, I’m not—“

“Cseenan Ren, _stand down_ —“

“I swore myself to Lord Ren,” Rey insisted.

_“Sure,”_ the Knight snarled, stepping closer, “until the next time some defective trooper comes along, whispering little words of threats and promises to steal you away from the _evil Knights of Ren.”_

“You tried to _eat me!”_ Rey cried.

Lord Tomaxx straightened, body taught, “You do _not_ raise your voice at us—“

_“Enough!”_ Lord Ren barked, “ _all of you._ I will not tolerate this sort of affray. Next person to speak out of line will come to know _exactly what I can do_ with all of this pain at my disposal.”

Rey shivered, holding back a whimper. She didn’t even _do anything_. Why was she always being punished for the acts of others?

He gave his apprentices a stiff look that they must have been able to interpret far better than Rey, resulting in their stances relaxing in tense submission, and then he turned to look at her. 

“Sit.”

She quickly and silently did so, arms crossed over her middle, eyes trained down on the table. 

“Now,” he said, pausing as if catching his breath, the muscles of his right arm visibly twitching even beneath his layers. He pressed a hand to his spasming bicep, his voice rough like electric gravel as he continued, “When and why exactly did you decide to stay?”

She had already told him before, but she knew the Knights needed to know, and she knew he needed to hear it from her now, especially since she was no longer drugged. She would swear herself to him again, if that’s what it took. 

“Sergeant Wolson said you were a monster,” she started, “that you were a blight on the galaxy because of your powers. He said he hoped someone would come finish you all off, because you were unnatural.”

The Knights looked agitated, Lord Cseenan hissing and flexing his claws furiously. 

Rey continued quickly, “I began to realize that he also meant that about _me— I’m_ a blight, _I’m_ unnatural, _I_ don’t deserve to live. Not just because I’m a slave, but because of…” she looked down at her palms, as if they held her profane secret.

“I knew if he found out about my powers, he would either kill me or let someone else kill me,” she said. “He thought he was doing the right thing for me by freeing me, but he wasn’t. I knew when we got to the hangar that staying here was best, that you were the only one who could help me, who could make my life worth something.” 

She looked up.  
  
“So I told him I was staying. And he decided he knew what was best better than I did, used an injector pen on my thigh, and tried to take me anyways. I tried to fight him.”

“You pushed him with the Force,” Lord Ren mused. “Twice, as I recall.”

She nodded, shamefaced. “I was so angry the first time. I said I wanted to stay, and he thought he knew better.”

“And the second time?”

Her brow creased. “He was going to shoot you.”

“So you tried to protect me.” He murmured. 

“Yessir. But I didn’t know you could… _stop blasters_.” Again she looked at him, unable to contain her awe. “Is there anything you can’t do with the Force?”

He sat quietly, looking away and back briefly, breathing heavily, his voice low and hollow as he replied, “I cannot change my blood.” 

Rey balked. She had meant it as a rhetorical question, but he had answered so seriously, she wondered if that was something he was genuinely upset about not being able to do. 

Why would he want to change his blood?

Was it a matter of family? For some reason imagining Lord Ren as a normal person, with a mother and father, possibly even siblings, was nearly impossible. He seemed so far removed from such a mundane thing. 

Lord Ren continued, as if he hadn’t said anything.

“How much of your vow do you remember?”

“All of it.” Rey looked up at his visor, hoping he could feel her truth. “I remember every word, Sir.”

“Good—“ suddenly he was cut off with a strangled sound, rigid, body strained in his seat before slumping over slightly, his chest heaving, his hands shaking as he clutched at the belt around his middle. 

Rey stood, heart pounding, feeling more of the horrible prickling and tingling and knowing that, somehow, it was an echo of what Lord Ren was feeling. 

The two apprentices also stepped closer, alarm filling the room.

“Master—“

Rey reached towards him, then pulled back, unsure. “What happened to him? What sort of injuries does he have?”  
  
“Burns,” Lord Tomaxx replied, coming closer.

Lord Cseenan kneeled by his master’s chair. “Electrical burns.”

_“What?”_ Rey gasped, “Where?” 

And How? 

“All over,” came Lord Ren’s strangled reply. 

Rey looked at him, at how he shook and struggled in his seat, then she looked up at his Knights, aghast. 

“And you let him put on so many layers again?”

The three of them looked at her, and she waved her hands at Lord Ren’s black clothing.

“If he has burns he should not wear so many things. Burns need _air,_ they need to _breathe_ or they’ll get infected. Not to mention the pain of added pressure and abrasion from it all—“ 

“It’s no issue,” he grit out. “I’ll be fine.”

Rey shook her head. “You should be in the medbay, Sir.”

All three gave a sharp, _“No,”_ and Rey pulled back further, not wanting to speak out of turn anymore, afraid to get in the way. She was already on thin ground. 

Tomaxx murmured, “I’ll call about the bacta, Cseenan you help master. Girl,” 

Rey jolted, rasping out, “Yessir?”

He indicated with his head at the door. “Get back in the other room, and wait there.”  
“I can help—“ she started with a small voice.

Lord Ren shook his head, fists clenched on his thighs, having pushed back his seat.

“No. You are still unwell. Go.”

“I’m not—“

_“Girl,”_ he barked, looking up. _“Go.”_

She nodded, eyes downcast. “Yessir,” and then moved around the group quickly to the now opened door. As soon as she was in the adjacent room, it shut again, and she was left alone. 

She stood dumbly for a moment, not knowing what to do, not wanting to just sit on the couch again when her master was in so much obvious pain.   
  
But she was breathless, her legs shaking from standing so much earlier, her chest aching and thumping painfully. She was not well. She was not strong enough to be of any use like this. 

She needed to heal. 

Rey went with heavy feet to the couch and sat, breathing deeply, catching her breath, trying to will her pounding heart to settle. She would not be an extra burden, not while her master was apparently so much worse off. It was ridiculous, even, that she was so sick still. She may have only come out of her coma barely four days ago, but she’s gotten back to work much sooner with much worse ailments before on Jakku. 

She had no choice back then, but she shouldn’t let herself become used to all this pampering. She needed to rest, yes, but she also knew that too much laying about would just make her sicker. 

The medics had planned a six-week recovery, but she was determined to do it in four. Twenty days was surely enough time. She’d rest, and walk, and drink their juice and broth, and do whatever she could in the meantime to be useful. She may have left with the medic willingly, but she had chosen to stay. And she was not going to renege on her vow to serve, no matter what. Lord Ren had proven his word was worth trusting, and now she needed to show him hers was too.

Four weeks. Yes, that was a plan. A good plan. Bolt by bolt, she remembered. 

Lord Ren had just given her the most important bolt of her life by accepting her vow and listening to her story without consequence. It was time to start building with it. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUrrrAAAYYY 🤩🙌✨ STUFF. IS. HAPPENING.  
> 
> 
> Next Chapter: Kylo gets some additional medical aid from the Knights, and Rey has what can only be described as a second-hand fever dream.....
> 
> This upcoming week I have an English camp to prep for, so next posting date will be Sunday August 23rd, 9PM Japan time.


	52. Burning Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and the Knights debrief while tending to his wounds, and then Rey has a very strange fever dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨Trigger warning 🚨: a small amount of self-harm on Rey's part. See end note for more details if you're concerned.

* * *

Taking off all of the black layers of clothing Kylo wore was turning out to be far more an ordeal than putting them on had been, and it took everything in him not to lash out at Tomaxx and Cseenan as they helped him disrobe. His skin was on fire, sweat soaking his undershirt and making it more difficult to peel off, and some of the bacta patches had been ruined in the short time since application and began pulling off with the shirt, causing him agony of a sort he hadn’t experienced before. 

When they were finally able to get his upper clothings off he sat heavily on his bed, panting, feeling less like he was going to pass out the way he had sitting at the table, but wishing he’d accepted the pain controllers nonetheless. He was exhausted but there was no way he was going to sleep with his whole body throbbing like this. 

“We should replace some of these,” Tomaxx said, hand hovering over Kylo’s shoulder where a large patch was peeling up. 

Kylo took in several deep breaths, dreading the idea but knowing it needed to be done. Girl’s information seemed counterintuitive to proper wound care, but something about her sudden belligerence on the matter made him think twice about shrugging it off. And so, here he was, half undressed again, in agony still but less so with the weight of his clothes gone.

“Just the ones that are coming off,” he said hoarsely. 

Tomaxx nodded, disappearing into the ‘fresher to clean his hands while Cseenan looked over the container of special bacta that had just been delivered by the returning medidroid. 

“I have drugs in my room, Master,” he rasped, turning to look at Kylo. “For infection, and pain.”

Kylo shook his head again.   
  
“No. We’ll change the bacta and then we will all sleep. It’s been a long day. We need to sleep.”

“Will you be able to?”

“Yes.” 

Probably not, but he’d try.  
  
Tomaxx returned and Kylo wished he had his blanket to bite onto, briefly cursing Girl for being so feeble as to need it, then silently scolded himself for it. She was too ill to control her temperature. She needed it far more than he did, especially now with his body pumping out heat like a nuclear furnace.

Changing the bacta patches was torturous, but one by one as the new ones were placed on, another wave of coolness began, soothing much of the pain and making the work less of a battle as they went on. 

“Maybe you should have gone into the tank,” Tomaxx mused as he slowly loosened a large patch on his shoulder blade.

“If that’s a joke,” Kylo ground out, hissing and clenching his muscles to keep still, “Know that I am _not_ amused by it.”

“You know I never joke, Master,” the Chiss mumbled. “That’s Cseenan Ren’s area of expertise.”  
  
The Barabel snorted but Kylo said nothing, too focused on not crying out from the pain to think of a reply.

They lapsed into silence for several moments as Tomaxx removed and replaced several more patches and wraps, Cseenan standing by, prepping the replacements. 

With the distraction of pain slightly subdued for a moment, Kylo was able to pick up on Girl’s tumultuous emotions from her exile in the other room. He looked towards the door, frowning. 

Tomaxx followed his gaze, pondering after a breath,

“Do you really think she’s here by will of the Force?”

“Yes,” Kylo answered, making sure the room felt his conviction. “Why else would I be shown how to save her and keep her here?”

Tomaxx looked stonily thoughtful for a moment as he wrapped a patch on Kylo’s bicep. 

“I’m not sure, Master,” the Knight conceded quietly. 

There was another vivid spike of guilt from the other room, and Kylo scowled. 

“She’s feeling rather guilty still.”

“Good,” growled Cseenan, earning him a warning look from the other two men. 

“I had assumed she felt such because she assumed blame for my punishment,” Kylo said lowly, ignoring him. “But now I know it was because she had betrayed me.”

“I think it’s probably both,” the Chiss mused. “Her panic attack happened after Cseenan called to inform about the extent of your injuries. She heard it, and became distraught. I made sure to leave the room to hear Cseenan’s updates thereafter.”

Kylo frowned further. It was strange she would have such a strong reaction to hearing he was so wounded, but if she blamed herself for it—and if she assumed she would be equally punished for causing such a thing to happen—he could understand it. 

“The blame is not on any one person,” Kylo grumbled, his temper rising, “But Hux can take a fair share.”

The Knights both looked at him. 

“Hux?” Cseenan hissed. “What does he have to do with it?”

Kylo breathed through another spasm, this one in his thigh. 

“The fucking snake told Snoke about everything,” he grit out, teeth grinding and face twisted in pain. It was like his whole leg was cramping. “About the droids I destroyed, about us being in ‘disarray,’ about you attacking the troopers—all of it. Supreme Leader did not find my omitting of things to be a forgivable offense.”

Cseenan snarled, scales bristling, eyes black, “I’ll fucking _gut him_ ,” and started moving towards the door. 

“Wait,” Tomaxx held the Barabel back, the his red eyes sharp as he gave Kylo a pointed look.

“That’s too messy. I can kill him and make it look like an accident. No one will know.”

Kylo shook his head, panting with relief as the spasm ceased. “No, as much as I want him dead for this, Snoke would know and kill me for sure, and do worse to you. Girl would not survive it either, and I will not have her die after all of this.”  
  
“You would not have been almost _electrocuted to death_ ,” Cseenan snapped, “if it weren’t for that pile of _bantha shit._ ”

“And I would have never known the reach of my abilities had I not been so injured,” Kylo argued again, glaring at them. “I _healed myself_. I brought myself back from the brink of oblivion.”

“You were truly so close to death?” Tomaxx asked somberly.

“He was fading,” Cseenan answered quietly, scaly face dark with remembrance, eyes returning to amber. “I felt it, and then I felt it reverse. I thought it was a trick of my mind, but I could see it.”

“How did you do it?” The Chiss asked, turning back to his master. “How did you heal yourself?”

At that Kylo paused, realizing that explaining it would perhaps reveal too much—he had already regretted telling Tomaxx about how Girl affected him. He did not need to add fuel to that fire by mentioning the small connection he had used as an anchor. 

“I was in such inconceivable pain,” he began, voice hollow, eyes lowering. “More pain than I’ve ever felt before. Truthfully…truthfully I wanted to die.” To admit even that was a shame, and the space around them stiffened with shock and denial. 

“But I remembered my destiny,” Kylo continued, “to defeat Skywalker, to rid the galaxy of the Jedi, and…I had also challenged Cseenan to a duel.” His gaze returned to the Barabel, who settled somewhat, his amber eyes grave.

“I knew I needed to live in order to fulfill my duties. So I focused, everything I had, everything of the Force I could reach, and I healed.” 

Tomaxx froze as he processed the information, some tension leaving his shoulders at hearing of the duel, and then nodded.

“It is a remarkable achievement, Master. But let’s hope you never have to use it ever again.”

“Agreed,” Kylo grumbled. He hoped he never experienced pain like that for the rest of his life. 

As if on cue, another spasm shot through his back, making him arch. 

They waited until it was gone before Tomaxx spoke again, prodding gently at a loose patch on Kylo’s side.

“What will you do with the slave now? She admitted to betraying you.”

Kylo flinched at the prodding. 

“Has there not been enough punishments lately?” he asked, voice gravelly. “She can barely stand for more than ten minutes. No, I will not punish her.”

He did not want to tell them about the promise he’d made her about the Table. He did not want to be accused of being _soft._

“It need not be something like this, Master,” Tomaxx said, beginning to clean up the mess of gauze and adhesive strips with Cseenan. “There are ways to punish without breaking the body.”

“No,” Kylo told him firmly. Both Knights looked up, frowning. Cseenan bristled.

“So she gets to be a traitor, without the consequences?”

“She’s suffered enough for all of this,” Kylo argued hotly. “You attacked her, Tomaxx scarred her mind. And I punished her,” he snapped, cutting off the Barabel’s attempt to interject again, “because of Wolson’s lies. She had done nothing wrong at the time, and I put a nerve-hold on her.”

They were silent, fuming, but subdued at the confession. 

“And still, with complete freedom at her fingertips, she chose to stay, she chose to remain a servant to me. Should she be punished for that? No.” Kylo shook his head, decreeing, “I consider it done. Tomorrow we will move to put this behind us. My word is final.”

“Yes, Master,” they replied lowly, only Tomaxx’s subtle scowl and Cseenan’s shivering scales any indication of their dislike of the matter. Kylo knew it would not be so easily done, it would take time for them to accept Girl, but they would make more efforts now that he had put his foot down. 

“We should all sleep,” Kylo said, beginning to stand, but sat again when his knees began to falter.

“One of us should watch you,” Cseenan rasped. 

“I’ll be fine,” Kylo panted. “You both need rest.” None of them had slept well in days. 

“We can rest here.”

Tomaxx eyed Kylo. “We would not sleep otherwise, knowing you are so afflicted, Master.”

Kylo sighed, scowling, knowing it to be true. It was not unusual for them to stay close when he came back from being corrected by Snoke.

“Fine,” he growled. “You will sleep in shifts, though. And in the morning when I prove to be stable and your fears are shown to be unfounded, you can suffer the day in exhaustion.”

“A suffering we take on gladly, Master,” Tomaxx demurred, placing the container of supplies on the table. “I will go get some things. Is there anything you need?”

“Just sleep.” _A few weeks’ worth should be enough._

The Chiss nodded and then disappeared behind the open and shut door to the adjacent room. 

Kylo leaned over to undo the straps of his boots but the pulling of the wraps on his back and the movement of the burns on his belly made him straighten, jaw clenched against the pain.

“I will help, Master,” Cseenan rasped, kneeling. 

Kylo did not protest, although he hated how weak he was being. Sweat was beginning to form on his forehead and exposed skin again, though. He may need to change his bandages once more before the night cycle was over. 

He watched the Barabel use his claws to carefully undo the clasps, slowly pulling off one boot. As he got to the other, Kylo felt something well up inside him. After everything that had happened, after Kylo had mistreated and almost killed his apprentice, the Knight would still humble himself helping his master remove his shoes.

“Thank you, Cseenan,” he said quietly. 

The Knight paused, looking up. 

“It’s just boots.”

Kylo held his gaze.   
  
“I mean thank you for trying to save my life, on the shuttle.”

Cseenan’s heavy brows lowered.   
  
“Do you think I would let you die?”

“Things were not good, Cseenan,” Kylo admitted. “I had thought for a time you would gladly see my blood run, and be the one to spill it.”

The Barabel tensed, bristling slightly as he continued undoing the other boot. 

“Just because Cseenan wanted to duel you,” he growled, “does not mean Cseenan wanted you to _die.”_ He pulled the boot off gently, still wary of Kylo’s burns, but roughly grabbed up the removed footwear and stood, going to deposit them near the closet.

Before Kylo could process a way to reply, Tomaxx reentered with an armload of things. If he noticed the sudden stiff air between the master and apprentice, he did not comment, merely set down the rollout mat and carried a bowl of cloth to the table. 

“Tomaxx,” Kylo scowled. He was sweating from the burns, not ill with a virus. He wouldn’t need anyone cooling him with wet cloth like an invalid. 

“Just a precaution, Master,” the Knight breezed. “I’ll take the first watch.”

Still scowling, Kylo teetered to his feet, determined to do his nightly ablutions in spite of his pains. He shrugged off helping hands, too stubborn to need help to the ‘fresher. His pride would not allow it. He did his usual washing up and business, then slowly limped back to the bed. 

“If Girl needs the ‘fresher,” he said in a strained voice as he sat, “let her in, but I’d rather she not see me like this.”

Tomaxx finished setting up, standing straight. 

“She won’t be neglected. And she won’t see you.”

Kylo nodded and settled back tentatively, wincing as his back made contact with the mattress, but glad it was so cool to the touch. It helped somewhat. 

“Should we get the blanket?” Cseenan rasped to Tomaxx.

“No,” Kylo grumbled from the bed. “Girl needs it more than I do.”

The Barabel gave a short huff through his nostrils, but did not say anything more, taking off his saber and belt to settle on the mat tensely. 

Tomaxx sat at the table, pulling out a datapad from somewhere, and Kylo closed his eyes as the lights dimmed. 

His body throbbed and ached, and he still occasionally had muscle spasms that caused him to tense and hold back grunts of pain, but eventually the pains lulled to the back of his mind and he was able to fall into a semi-fitful sleep. 

* * *

~~~~OOO**OOO~~~~~

* * *

Rey dreamed. 

The rocky crags gave way more quickly to durasteel walls this time as she jogged quickly down the sandy corridor of the starship, following the tug in her bones. There was definitely something wrong, someone needed her, and she needed to find them _quickly._

The deeper into the maze she got the hotter the air became, until it was nearly Jakku-levels of sweltering. Luckily Rey was used to such heat. It was homely, and yet the urgency in her gut only grew. This heat was _not_ normal here. 

And to make matters worse, she was lost. The tug in her bones was off, her internal compass resetting, at times it even seemed the corridors themselves were changing and moving around, setting her back. And the walls were hazy, undulating slowly, making her feel slightly motion-sick. She wanted to go back, but that felt like giving up, and she would _not_ give up. 

She turned and stopped, seeing a figure far down the swaying corridor. A figure in black, with a smoking gash diagonally bisecting his torso.

It was Sergeant Wolson. 

Rey took a step back, knowing she did not want to be anywhere near the man, knowing she did not want to know what he had to say to her. She could not take it yet. She could not handle what his death meant for her. 

He only stood, silently judging, silently staring at her, far enough down the corridor that Rey knew if she turned and ran he would not catch her. But he disappeared into the air like smoke, blowing in the wind. Rey hoped he would disappear forever. 

She started running again, but soon something flashed in the corner of her eye, and she snapped her head around, freezing in her tracks. 

“Hello?” She called, her voice echoing and warping in the electrified air. 

There was nothing, so she began stepping forward again, but suddenly she heard something, a whisper, near her ear, and it made her flinch away.

“Hello?” She called again, voice tight. “Who’s there?”

_“This way.”_

Rey pivoted towards the sound, facing a corridor that had not been there a second before. 

Her heart thundered in her chest, the hairs on her arms standing on end as something shimmered into view, down the corridor. It was like a heat mirage, fading in and out of sight, but she was sure it was a person. Not Wolson this time, however. 

It was a boy. 

_“Thi— way, c’mon, you gotta —urry,”_ he said, the sound warbled and staticky and difficult to parse out. 

She knew this boy, somehow. She recognized him. He was safe.

Rey started forward, following his shimmering form as it raced down, taking turns, the air getting hotter, the walls almost completely durasteel now, the shiny grey and black panels buzzing and fizzing with electric shocks, the ground warping too, making it hard to run without stumbling. 

But she was so close. She could feel it, she was right there. Just another corner—

She stopped as she got around the bend, met with the most peculiar sight. Several speederlengths down the corridor was what looked like a transparisteel wall, but it was opaque, foggy, scratched, and worn, like something in an old starship ruin, not a brand new ship like this. 

She approached it warily, cautiously, the electrified air steaming with heat and vibrating with some inaudible sound that she could feel deep within—deeper than her bones. Deep in her soul, maybe.

Slowly Rey got to the cloudy wall, and then jumped back with a small gasp. Something just moved. There was a shadow on the other side.

The outline was like a great beast—murky and hazy and dark, but enough for her to know it was big, even hunched over in pain the way it was.

_“He’s not doing too good,”_ the boy ghost murmured at her elbow, young face furrowed with worry. 

The shadow moved again, stumbling, and then there was the dark outline of a shadow hand pressed up against the other side of the wall as it steadied itself.

_“You should reach out to him,”_ the boy said.

“What?” Rey asked, motioning to the obstacle. “How? There’s a wall.”

The boy looked up at Rey with bright eyes, ancient eyes.   
  
_“Just try.”_

And then he was shimmering out of view again, and Rey knew he was gone for good this time. 

Rey eyed the wall, her heart hammering, skin prickling and tingling like mad from the static and from the heat, and she tentatively put her hand up, letting only a single finger touch the strange barrier.

She gasped again, pulling back. It wasn’t transparisteel. 

It was _ice—_ so cold and solid even in the radiating temperatures from everything else.

She put her palm to it, mirroring the shadow, a shiver making waves down her arm, through her body, another deeper hum shaking her to her toes. 

Whatever was on the other side, it was powerful. Dangerous. 

But,

She knew it was sick. It was hurting. 

If only she could melt the wall, if only she could reach it for real—

“I’m sorry,” she whispered despondently. “I wish I could help you.”

It stilled, the head turning, and Rey imagined it was looking at her now, and maybe she shouldn’t be here, maybe she should turn and go back—

Within the next instance the area around her hand became like suspended liquid, and suddenly a black shadow hand was grabbing her wrist in a grip both searing and frigid, and Rey pulled back against it with a small cry, trying to get free, a powerful shock running through her and making the lights above her spark and explode, her whole body feeling like a live wire, like a thousand volts of lightning, like a hyperdrive engine, so much potential energy, so much, _too much._

And then the hand was _pulling_ her, and she couldn’t fight against it, couldn’t break it’s ironclad grip on her wrist. The wall was liquid ice, and she was moving through it, freezing and searing her exposed skin, and then she was on the other side and it was pitch black, a thermal pit so so dark, and she was terrified, so much _noise,_ so much anger and sadness and violence—

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a broad chest, the body feverishly warm, the heartbeat beneath her cheek pounding irregularly, the muscles shaking and twitching around her. 

The shadow beast was sick, and frightened. 

Rey trembled for a moment before bringing her own arms up, holding it as tightly as it held her, hoping it wouldn’t be angry at her terror, hoping that by accepting it’s embrace it would refrain from hurting her. 

It must have sensed her trembling, though, because after several shaky moments it’s hand slid up her spine to grip the nape of her neck, and somehow it conveyed a sense of safety, of security, and Rey found herself going momentarily boneless from it. 

Dazed, she rubbed a soothing hand down it’s heaving back in return, some of the noise around them dying down.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”

She felt it’s arms tighten around her, felt it take a breath, as if it were going to say something. 

And then she sensed something _gritty_ and _dark_ and she knew she couldn’t stay because that feeling meant _even worse_ danger. She needed to go, and the sad shadow knew it too but it tried to hold on, gripping her so hard it hurt. 

But there was no stopping it as Rey was wrenched away by a force unknown, pulled back through the liquid ice, somehow falling backward through all of the durasteel and heat and electricity and rock, down down down straight into—

Rey jolted upright, shaking, gasping for breath, her eyes blinking in the dim light of Lord Ren’s rooms, immediately drawn to the dark figure standing just feet away.

A dark figure that quickly focused into Lord Cseenan.

He was maskless, his eyes gleaming in the gloom, staring down at her stiffly. 

Rey knew better than to try to run, but she couldn’t help to jerk back with a gasp before instinct kicked in to hold her still. 

“L-Lord Cseenan?” She whispered tremulously, looking around for anyone else, unsure for a moment that she wasn’t dreaming still. But the darkness abrading her senses like sandpaper on skin told her it wasn’t a dream, the Barabel was here, with her, _alone._

There was a tension in the air, a wrongness, an urgency. Was it from her dream? Or her instinctual aversion to the Knight? Or something else? 

His claws flexed at his sides, his tail swished once, he looked at the bedroom door, then back at her. 

“Master is feverish,” he rasped tensely. “He needs the blanket.”

Rey blinked, his words taking a moment to sink in. And then she looked down at the blanket gripped tightly in her drawn up fists, and, guilt turning her stomach, she quickly and haphazardly folded it without question or argument. 

She held it out, heart aching in her chest, the droid quiet though because her wrist monitor had slipped off in the night. 

The Barabel’s eyes barely flicked down to the blanket from where they were zeroed in on her, so dark, so intense. 

Slowly, as if he was the one afraid that _she_ would lash out at _him,_ the Knight inched closer, reaching out with his deadly clawed hands, grasping the bundled blanket and pulling it from her. 

He stood, holding it, his nostrils flaring, his toothy mouth opening slightly to breathe in more of her scent, his eyes still locked on to her and growing darker, and Rey wondered if after all of the things she had been through in the past two days she would end up torn apart and eaten by Cseenan Ren in the end after all.

His claws were ripping holes in the blanket from his tightening grip, and he took another step closer, muscles taut.

But the bedroom door hissed open, and Lord Tomaxx stood in the doorway, whispering loudly,

“Cseenan!”

The Barabel jolted, blinking, looking at the other apprentice with hunched shoulders, begrudgingly caught-out. 

Lord Tomaxx looked at the scene and took a step in. 

“Do you need a riddle?”

Rey frowned, confused, but the other Knight shook his head stiffly. 

“Then bring the blanket quickly. Master needs it, remember?”

The Knight nodded, dark eyes flickering once more to Rey, a threat, a promise, a warning written in their ebony depths. 

But he moved away, past Lord Tomaxx and into the bedroom. 

The masked apprentice watched him, then turned back to Rey.

“Are you hurt?”

Rey shook her head, her throat too tight to make sounds. 

“Good. Go back to sleep.” And then he was back in the bedroom, the door hissing shut behind him. 

Rey took several long breaths, feeling dizzy and cold and tingly and warm, the nape of her neck sweating. She rubbed the prickling hairs there, shivering. 

_“Go back to sleep”?_

As if she would be able to sleep after waking up to Lord Cseenan standing so close, the threat of him returning at any point hanging in the air as well. 

As if she could sleep after the dizzying, bizarre dream. 

But for how vivid it had been, it was slipping from her memory like hot sand through a sieve now, shocked from her mind by the Barabel’s sudden unwelcome presence, and elusively evading any attempts of hers to remember it. The more she tried, the more it faded away, until all she could remember was the faint hint of heat, and ice, and trembling darkness. 

And aside from the slight nausea churning her stomach, something felt very odd, very strange, deep down inside her. It was jittery, like a magnetized coil clattering and springing about her ribcage. Whether it was from her worry about her sick master—he was _feverish_ now? Just how sick was he? — or just left over adrenaline, she didn’t know. Everything was constantly changing within and around her now. She just wished for some peace. She just wished for some normalcy. 

The cold was quickly seeping into her again, even with her body feeling so warm from the dream and her fear. The cooling sweat was making her shiver, and although she knew she was slowly getting used to the cold temperatures of the ship, she was not yet immune. 

She hugged herself, already missing the blanket. But she looked and realized that Sergeant Wolson’s jacket was still folded on the arm of the couch, having been forgotten when the investigators came. 

Evidence or not ( _dead man’s jacket or not_ ), she was still tempted to use it as a blanket. Her guilt held her back, though. Did she really deserve to be warm, when her master was in the other room sick with a fever? Should she be comfortable at all? ( _Should you use the jacket of the man you got killed?_ )

Rey shook the voice from her head. _Stop._

But her gut to her no, that she didn’t even deserve to lay on the couch. She almost wanted to move back to her spot on the ground behind it, a self-reprimand for causing all of this. But she knew she needed to get better, and lying on the floor was probably not going to help with that. 

Neither was getting sicker from cold. 

Resigned with a sigh, guilt weighing her heart down, Rey unfolded the jacket and curled up beneath it, re-clipping the heart monitor to her wrist, and then quietly counted the ceiling panels again for the tenth time to try and bide the time, not even willing to pretend to lull herself back to sleep. Not with her heart beating so fast, not with the strange urgency clouding the air. It was the second Bad Feeling she’d had in a day, although this time she was sure it must be about Lord Ren’s illness.

Rey felt another wave of guilt and dug her nails into her arm, the pain easing some of it and sharpening her groggy mind. Her master was sick from wounds he got because of her. He was _feverish._ She didn’t deserve to rest until she knew he was better. It was the least she could do, especially being so useless right now the way she was.

Rey decided then that no matter the promise Lord Ren had made about the Table, she deserved to be punished for what he was going through. Once he was well enough she would tell him so. She would beg him to punish her, if that’s what it took.

Even if it meant suffering the thing he’d done to her in the medbay again, she knew her guilt was going to eat her alive if she didn’t atone for all of this somehow.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨Trigger warning details: Rey feels really guilty and digs her nails into her arm to relieve some of it.🚨
> 
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> WELL. Interesting dream, eh? 😏✨👀  
> hehehe
> 
> ~*Author's Commentary Note*~
> 
> I wanted to bring up something I was discussing with my beta the other day pertaining to Kylo's mask and his face being revealed to Rey. I've actually already written about this in a comment forever ago, but I wanted to bring it up again here now because we're going to start getting into some things and I just want to explain to you what it is I'm doing.   
> The masks that Kylo and the Knights wear are both figurative and literal in how they shield the wearers. The times that they are wearing and not wearing their masks are 9.5 times out of 10 _very_ deliberate on my part as the writer. They symbolize several things, but one of the most important symbols is that of willingness to show their true self, and a willingness to be vulnerable around others--both emotionally and physically. For each of them, the masks serve a different symbolic purpose, although there's a lot of overlap.   
> With that said, _Kylo's face will not be revealed to Rey until he feels comfortable being so vulnerable around her._   
> In the meantime, there will be close calls where Rey might accidentally see him. I think for realism's sake, close calls are pretty normal, because humans are fallible and mistakes happen, so realistically there will be some moments were Kylo's face might be revealed when he truly doesn't want it to. I'm not writing those scenes in as GOTCHA!! moments that only I cackle evilly about, thinking how I tricked you guys again; they're just going to fit in to the story the way it flows from my brain.   
> Not sure if that counts as spoilery content, but I don't want y'all getting frustrated with me, thinking I'm pulling a fast one on you too many times. I promise there will be foreshadowing when it gets close to Face Reveal Time. Whether you pick up on the foreshadowing is another thing 😂 But I promise it will be there. 
> 
> So, now that you know how I use the masks, here's some fun questions for ya:
> 
> 1) Why do you think Cseenan Ren goes maskless more often than Tomaxx and Kylo?
> 
> 2) Kylo woke up without his mask after Snoke's punishment. What sort of symbolism could you infer from that?
> 
> Anywho, if y'all hadn't caught on to the symbolic use of the masks before, now you know 😂 Rey's name is another thing that will be revealed at the right time, but that's for another Author's Note for another time, if I haven't explained it already. 
> 
> Work is starting back up in a week, so postings will be back to once per week again until I get my balancing groove back.   
> Next Chapter: Rey gets some R&R while Lord Ren recovers, and the dust of all the chaos finally begins to settle...  
> Posting date: Sunday, August 30th 9PM Japan time (holy shit it's almost September. wHERE DID THE TIME GO)


	53. A Day and A Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey rests while waiting for Lord Ren to get better, and then a conversation ensues over breakfast...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking hell I was just about done prepping this chapter when I touched the backspace and it cleared the whole thing FFFFFFFUUGUUFUDFLSJF 
> 
> Anyways, sorry this is slightly later than my 9PM deadline. I had to restart the prepping process from scratch, which on longer chapters like this takes a while. 
> 
> Slight trigger warning: some thoughts of and actions towards self harm.

* * *

Rey knew when Lord Ren’s fever broke, and the relief she felt when she realized it was immense. She wasn’t sure she could explain how she knew, except that the uncomfortable tingling she felt all over slowly ebbed away to negligible levels.

Her low-grade anxiety faded somewhat as a result, although she still felt horribly guilty for her part in it, not to mention nervous about Lord Cseenan. She hadn’t seen him again since her sudden wake-up, but she knew he must be as keenly aware of how close she was as she was of him. 

He was a predator. It was his nature.

The door hissed open not too long after things settled, and Rey sat up to see Lord Tomaxx stepping through. He let the door close behind him before approaching.

“You’ve been awake,” he said, a statement, not a question. Of course he knew. For some reason it made her feel even more guilty, like she was doing something wrong.

“Yessir,” Rey said, whispering as if her voice would travel through the gloom and disturb their master.

“Do you need to use the ‘fresher?”

The question took Rey aback, but she quickly answered in the affirmative realizing how long it had been since she’d last used the facilities. Better grasp the offer now, while it was available. 

“Lord Ren is sleeping,” the apprentice told her, “so you will go in quietly, eyes down, do your business quickly and then leave.”

“Yessir,” she answered, getting to her feet. 

It was darker in Lord Ren’s rooms, but she could still see the outline of Lord Cseenan leering at her in her peripherals, his reptilian eyes flashing in the dark. 

The table was littered with things she couldn’t make out from how dark it was, and she wondered how Lord Tomaxx was able to see—was his eyesight that good, or did his mask help?

The bed was also steeped in shadows, but she ducked her head further, ignoring it until she was in the ‘fresher to avoid incurring either Knights’ wrath. She closed the door, encased in total darkness until the lights flickered on, making her wince and blink from the sudden blaring light. 

She did her business quickly, then took several quick drinks from the sink, relishing the coolness soothing her parched throat. As she straightened and wiped her mouth, her eyes fell upon the space above the sink, where the mirror should have been. There were dents in the durasteel now where there had been none before.   
  
Dents, as if hit with something. The size and shape of them led her to think it could have been fists.

It was a sobering thought, that her master had hit the wall with such a rage that he had dented the metal. Surely it must have hurt? When had it happened, anyways? And why? If he was strong enough to dent durasteel, what sort of damage could he do to a person? 

To her?

It almost made her rethink her decision to ask for punishment. Did she really want someone with these capabilities punishing her? She already knew what he could do to her in the Force. Did she really want to know how else his hands could hurt her?

Her mind caught up with her as she realized it had been almost three minutes since she’d entered, so she quickly shut the light off and opened the door. The bedroom was pitch black to her eyes now, but still she lowered her head and moved forward quickly. 

She did not calculate her trajectory well enough, though, and her hip hit the back of one of the chairs at the table, causing it to scrape loudly on the floor. 

She froze, grasping the furniture tightly, wincing from the small pain of impact but also from the sudden noise. 

Lord Cseenan hissed, but it cut off after another rasp emerged from the dark. 

“Tomaxx..”

Rey felt her whole body shudder and prickle with shock. The voice was airy and hoarse, barely audible in the whisper that it was, but she knew it was Lord Ren’s. It sounded nothing like his usual deep electronic cadence, and Rey wondered just how much the vocomodulator in the mask enhanced things.   
  
He sounded sick and weak, like someone on their deathbed.   
  
Rey felt someone—Lord Tomaxx, by the lack of claws—grab her arm roughly and quickly pull her to the door, pushing her through and closing it behind her before she could catch her footing. 

She tottered for a second, and then, after a pause to breathe and catch her bearings, Rey moved to sit back on the couch, forgoing reattaching her lines because she had a feeling that someone would come out again soon to deal with her for her mistake. She didn’t want her IV port getting ripped out. 

_“Tomaxx..”_

She replayed the voice over and over in her mind, her curiosity piqued, her guilt returning tenfold. 

She couldn’t do anything right. Not even a simple toilet break. She’d disturbed Lord Ren as he slept, waking him from his much-needed rest. 

Rey absolutely needed to be reprimanded, at least for that. 

<please reattach the intravenous line and heart monitor>

The sudden speech from the medidroid made her jump, but she shook her head. 

“I will later.”

<you need to continue receiving intravenous therapies for at least one more day before full detachment>

Rey sighed, eyes fluttering closed briefly. Just one more day, and then she wouldn’t have to deal with IV lines anymore. _Just one more day._

And then twenty more until she would be better. 

She opened her eyes, determination reset somewhat, and did as the droid asked her. She needed to heal so she could be useful. 

It wasn’t until some time later after the lights in the room increased in brightness, belying the start of the day-cycle, that Rey saw the Knights again. 

She was sat holding her knees to her chest on the couch for warmth—the jacket was folded again and set on the floor, out of sight— as she peered in curious detachment at the identichip that had been forgotten there by Lord Ren. When had he made it? Was it just for slaves and servants, or did everyone have one? 

When the bedroom door opened suddenly to reveal the Knights, Rey quickly put the chip down and moved to place her socked feet on the floor, her face turned towards them with expectant contriteness. She deserved to be slapped but she wasn’t sure what they planned to do.

Lord Cseenan bore his mask again and Lord Tomaxx looked the same as always in spite of what must have been a sleepless night—impeccable and neat. Although, there was a charged quality to both of them that Rey interpreted as the same jittery exhaustion that she was feeling. 

“His temperature is stable, and he’s sleeping again,” Lord Tomaxx told her.

“No thanks to you,” Lord Cseenan hissed, bristling, and Rey hunched in on herself further. 

“I’m s—“ Rey began, but cut herself off quickly, smashing her lips together, her hand coming up for good measure. She must truly be exhausted to have almost apologized to a Barabel.

Said creature was bristling even more now, as if just the idea of an ‘I’m sorry’ was enough to rile him up.   
  
It probably was.

But Lord Tomaxx stepped in front of his line of sight, staring at him silently. They stood that way for a moment, seemingly communicating somehow without sound or movement, and then the taller Knight turned to Rey.

“Master will likely be sleeping for most of the day. Droids will bring him food and medicines. Do not concern yourself with him; he will tend to himself from now on.”

“Okay,” Rey whispered, nodding, unhappy at being proven useless once again. 

“Your droid will likely need to be serviced soon,” he added. “While it is absent you will not do any strenuous activity. Do not burden Master with your stumbling about again.”

She ducked her head, ashamed. 

“Yessir.”

The two apprentices began moving towards the door, the Barabel growling,

“Try not to let any others snatch you away while we’re gone, little pet.” He flexed his claws menacingly, threatening, “Oath or not, nothing will save you next time you fall out of line.”

Rey looked up with wide eyes, feeling slightly off-kilter as they exited to the grey corridor without even a backwards glance in her direction. She should be happy to see them go, but for some reason she was unsettled. 

The door hissed shut, and Rey was once again left alone, this time without even a datapad to keep her occupied—Just herself, the droid, and the identichip, but even that had nothing of interest to it besides an insignia and ‘KR02’ written on it. She was tempted to ask FX-8 about the ship, but she was afraid to get in trouble for being too curious. Lord Ren would tell her what she needed to know when he was better.

With the oppressive weight of darkness lifted somewhat by the exit of the two apprentices, and with the reduction of anxiety and adrenaline that had plagued her body for the past day and a half, Rey felt her exhaustion finally taking hold of her. She was so glad it was from normal sleepiness this time instead of from drugs. 

If Lord Ren was going to be sleeping all day, then it was probably okay for her to sleep too. There was no purpose for her if her master was not awake. 

They both needed the sleep, although Rey felt like she didn’t deserve it. No matter what the Knights had said, she knew she should be in the bedroom tending to her master. It wasn’t right that he was alone while so unwell. But, she had been told to stay put, and she knew she needed sleep. She needed to rest, to heal. 

So Rey laid back down and curled up, positioning her arm to cover her eyes and block out the blinding light of the room. Guilt plagued her for a small while longer but, in the end, Rey was fast asleep within minutes.

* * *

Sometime during the morning the droid woke her up briefly to detach the lines, telling her it required servicing and a refill of her medicines before exiting the rooms. A kitchen droid appeared soon after, rolling into Lord Ren’s bedroom with a tray of breakfast. When it came back to retrieve it later, the tray was untouched—a waste of food Rey felt deeply guilty about, to add to the growing list.

The medidroid returned to reattach and continue her intravenous treatment, bringing with it a thin blanket that Rey took gratefully. As she lay back down beneath it, intent on dozing, she thought about the things Lord Ren had told her at the table, about his vision, about her place here being the will of the Force, and while she still didn’t believe she was anything nearly that important, she believed her master believed it. It both enthralled her and frightened her.

What if he found out she was nothing special after all? What if she truly was a fluke? 

Would he get rid of her?

She hated thinking that he would somehow accuse her of deceiving him whenever he eventually realized she was nothing. How can she convince him that she’s known all along she was worthless, it was his own skewed perspective that had deceived him?  
  
She couldn’t. It would be suicide to even think of telling him such a thing. 

Rey would just have to hope that she was able to keep up the farce long enough to prove herself worthy of being a servant outside of her Force abilities.

Sleep overcame her again, and it was sometime after the luncheon meal had been brought that Rey came to once more, knowing somehow from the buzzing beneath her skin that Lord Ren was awake. 

A medidroid wheeled out of his room later—it must have snuck in while she was passed out—and when she saw it, plus the mostly-eaten tray taken by the kitchen droid, more relief flooded her. 

He was getting medicine, and eating. 

_Thank the Maker._

This time when unconsciousness came, her sleep was plagued with weird dreams about giant droids trying to fit through small doors, about Wookies selling ice sculptures on Jakku, and about rocks that followed behind like curious critters when you walked down starship corridors. Nothing particularly nightmarish, just a casual staticky strangeness, which was a relief after so many nights with only chaos and nauseating images.

Lord Tomaxx came around the same time the dinner meal arrived, and while Rey woke tensely as he drew near and entered, he walked past without looking at her at all. The feeling of being invisible to him soothed her somewhat. 

She was fine not being acknowledged by the apprentice— either one of them, really. If she spent the rest of her days on the ship only being spoken to by Lord Ren and service droids, she would be perfectly happy. 

He stayed only for a short time before leaving just as silently, the kitchen droid trailing after him with an empty tray. 

Rey wasn’t sure how much more sleep she was capable of, but evidently her body had built up reserves in need of it. When the lights dimmed again for night-cycle, she was already unconscious, and after a dreamless night she woke again when the lights brightened once more for the next day.

FX-8 ran another slew of diagnostics, and after conferring remotely with the medbay, declared her safe to remove the IV. It felt like the greatest victory as it gently pulled out the needle and stashed it in a waste compartment. 

No more needles. No more IV lines leashing her to a droid. 

One step closer to healthy again. One step closer to not being a burden anymore.

The medidroid left for another servicing as a kitchen droid brought a breakfast for Lord Ren. Rey watched it disappear into his bedroom, noting that the lights were on this time, although there was little else besides a wall that she could see from her vantage point.

Her mind returned to the raspy voice that had uncurled from the darkness. 

_“Tomaxx..”_

What did a person with such a voice look like?

Granted, he’d been sick. He could sound much different in reality. But Rey couldn’t help to imagine him as some sort of reptilian humanoid, like Lord Cseenan. Did Lord Ren have sharp teeth? Did his eyes turn black when he was hungry or angry?

Perhaps she’d never know. 

Someone wearing so many layers of clothes must wish to keep covered up for a good reason, especially if he was willing to suffer more from horrible burns just to stay concealed. 

The bedroom door slid shut, and Rey slumped on the couch, picking up the identichip to fumble with in her hands as she thought. 

Whatever the reason he wore so many things, she had made it an unbearable lifestyle choice for him by causing him to be so horribly punished. She had seen fellow slaves be burned with brands and irons, for purposes of marking of ownership and for punishment, and it had always been a terrible sight, and an incredibly painful thing to recover from. 

He said he was burned all over, as well. Rey could not imagine the agony of that. And it was all her fault. 

She was the worst. She deserved nothing less than the equivalent in pain and damage. She shouldn’t have even given him her vow. It was worthless. She was useless, a blight, a—

The bedroom door slid open.

“Girl.”

Rey jumped, the chip flying from her hands to clatter on the floor. 

“Y-yessir!” She answered, heart pounding. 

Lord Ren was dressed fully again, minus his cowl, standing straight and imposing in his doorway as if he hadn’t been grievously injured and sick for the past two days.

His mask followed the path of the dropped item, his palm turning up casually. The identichip slid towards him and then rose to his waiting grip.

Rey’s wide eyes rose from the chip to his visor, then back down.

It was amazing the little things he could do, and seemingly so easily. 

“Where is FX-8?” Lord Ren asked after a pause. His voice sounded much stronger, the usual deep electric, and Rey almost wanted to faint in relief. 

“He said I don’t need the IV anymore,” she told him, “and that he needed to be serviced. He’ll probably come back later.”

Lord Ren nodded. “Good.”

It was silent but for the hum of the ship and Rey’s heavy heartbeat. Surely he could hear it?

Lord Ren’s thumb rubbed against the edge of the identichip, and then he spoke.

“The last time you washed was two days ago, correct?” he asked.

Rey thought for a second and then nodded. “Yessir.”

Lord Ren turned slightly, beckoning with his head. 

“Go wash up.”

Rising to her feet with another “yessir,” her hands clenched at her middle, Rey filed in past her master, shivering from his cold aura—although it wasn’t as frigid as before, which she saw as a good sign—and moved to the ‘fresher.

She couldn’t help to surreptitiously glance around, searching for evidence of the previous day’s infirmity to add to the mountain of reasons why she was terrible. But the bed was neatly made, and aside from the few medical supplies organized on the table, the room was otherwise the same as always—pristine and bare. 

“Wait,” Lord Ren said as she neared the ‘fresher, bringing her to pause nervously.

He moved to a set of drawers, pulling neatly folded items out into a concise pile to hand to her. 

“Here. You have fifteen minutes. Use _all_ of the fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes? To use the _water_ shower? 

Rey looked back at him with uncertainty and guilt. She did not deserve such a luxury.

“I’m going to eat while you wash,” he told her in explanation. “I’d rather not have to rush.”

Her eyes fell upon the covered tray on the table, an understanding of the situation soothing some of her nerves and allowing her to nod.

“Yessir.”

She entered the ‘fresher and the door shut. Fifteen minutes. She was used to washing in less than five. Fifteen was going to feel like a lifetime. 

It was going to feel like she had nothing better to do. 

_I don’t,_ she thought grumpily to herself, placing the clothes on the counter.

_Not yet_ , she amended, reminding herself of her plan to heal, to become useful, and then with that she set to work stripping. 

The shower stall was dripping already, telling her that Lord Ren had probably showered first thing. She wondered why he hadn’t eaten before letting her in, but perhaps he had his reasons. She would not look this gift-fathier in the mouth. 

Rey took her time beneath the hot water, and tried not to feel too guilty about it. She eyed the soaps but decided against using them because they were her master’s and he had told her to wash but not necessarily given her permission to use his things.

She looked herself over again as she washed, noting a slight difference since the last time she’d showered in the room. Her bones were still visible beneath her thin skin, and there was a small bruise on her thigh from where Sergeant Wolson had used the injector pen, but there was some hollow places that seemed to be slightly filled in more. 

Whatever treatment they had given her in the bacta tank and intravenously, it appeared to have helped, even if just a fraction. 

A fraction was all she needed though _. A bolt_. Just one little bit at a time would help her move forward, no matter how slow.

_Twenty days_ , she thought— a wish, a promise. _I will be diagnosed completely healthy by the droids in twenty days._  
  
Rey spent approximately ten minutes scrubbing herself and her hair beneath the shower spray, cleaning every nook and cranny of her body, the warmth thawing her chilled hands and feet until she was toasty and pink. 

She dried off, then inspected the neatly folded pile of clothing. She had assumed it was another set of Lord Ren’s hand-me-downs, but as she picked through them she realized it was an actual uniform, with proper underthings and socks. 

Lord Ren had gotten her clothes? _New_ clothes? When had he done this? 

She stood slightly shocked, slightly emotionally moved (and guilty) by this small gesture, and then realized the time and quickly put everything on. 

The chest wrap device almost confused her, but once she figured out the clips and straps, she found it went on fine, if a little loosely. In truth, only the undershirt and underwear fit her with any sort of form. The stiffly pressed black jacket and high-waisted pants ended up slightly baggy, and the accompanying belt fastened around her emaciated waist seemed to bring into stark relief just how thin she actually was now. But the clothes were not nearly as large as the things Lord Ren had given her before; These were picked, _for her_. For her size. 

She was determined to grow into them.

The uniform wasn’t as soft as the black shirt or the medbay clothes, but the crispness of it made Rey feel more high-class than she’d ever felt in her entire life. She almost looked like she belonged here. 

All dressed, Rey scrubbed her hair dry with the bathing sheet, combing it with her fingers, and then deftly tied it into her three buns. 

_“One, two, three,_ ” Nybian used to say, laughter in her voice as she tapped each one. _“Strength, courage, and perseverance. As long as you have these three, Reybeam, you’ll have all you need.”_

_That’s right,_ she thought, smoothing everything down one last time. _It’s all I need._

By her mental clock, it had been almost sixteen minutes. She hesitated by the door controls, suddenly struck with uneasiness brought on by not knowing what to expect from the master on the other side. Would he be angry at her still for what she’d confessed? Would he interrogate her further about it? 

Would he tell her that he thought long about the situation and decided he was handing her over to the First Order to deal with, no longer wanting her a part of his group? Was that why he had found the uniform for her to wear? She dreaded the answer, but there was only one way to find out.

Rey pressed to open the door, the dewy skin of her face chilling slightly in the colder air that swept in. Lord Ren was sat in his seat, the tray empty on the table before him, a datapad in his hands. 

His mask lifted towards her, and Rey stood silently, waiting for his approval, waiting for anything.

He nodded after his short assessment. 

“The uniform is a bit big, but in time I’m sure you’ll fit into it better.”

“Yessir,” Rey nodded, fidgeting slightly. 

He returned to looking at his datapad, his hand indicating vaguely to a wall of cabinets and closet doors to her left. 

“Put your soiled clothes in the chute.”

Rey looked, identifying a closed slot on the wall with a switch, and quickly gathered up the discarded clothings and deposited them in, pressing to close it after.

“Always put dirty laundry in the chute. I don’t like mess,” he told her lowly. 

“Yessir.”

“Come sit. The medidroid brought you something.”

Rey hesitated only for a moment before sitting in the other chair, peering into the waiting cup and sniffing at it quietly. Probably broth. She wasn’t very hungry, even though it had been almost two days since she’d last consumed anything the normal way.

“Drink it.”

Rey nodded, frowning softly. 

“Yessir.”

_“Slowly,”_ he amended when Rey picked up the cup. 

She nodded again and took a small sip. It was like watered down meat stock, lukewarm, slightly salty, slightly fatty, with other vague flavors she hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t bad. It could taste like bantha steak and she probably still wouldn’t have an appetite for it. But, she knew she needed to drink it—to heal.

They sat that way for several minutes, quiet in an uncertain sort of way, Lord Ren reading things on his datapad and Rey slowly sipping at the broth. The air felt heavy with wariness and discomfiture, which she knew was mostly coming from herself.

She eyed him covertly, wondering if he was going to say anything else, especially about his injuries. Did he remember her accidentally waking him up the other night? Probably not. He had still been feverish. 

“How do you feel, Sir?” The question came out before she had time to think, jarring even to her own ears in the quiet of the cold room. She regretted the sudden outburst immediately, realizing that maybe her master was doing important work on his datapad and she had just interrupted him. 

He stiffened but did not look up from his reading, replying a dry, “Fine.” 

He had been _not fine_ just a day ago. He had been not fine _at all_. As Rey eyed him, she could tell he was obviously still recovering by the constrained quality of his posture and movements, but she did not sense that he was anywhere near as affected as he’d been earlier.

Rey wondered if there would be scars for the burns he had sustained. She wondered if he would be reminded of her betrayal every time he undressed now, if it would be just another reason to wear so many layers. 

She deserved to be punished for this. She’d take anything at this point—a whip, a cane, fists, the Force, electr—

Lord Ren looked up.

“Why do you still feel guilty?” he asked, cutting off her thoughts. “Is there something else you haven’t told me?”

Rey for her part kept herself from jolting this time from his uncanny way of reading her, and shook her head, although it wasn’t technically the truth. She _was_ guilty. She had caused all of this to happen.

Why didn’t he want her punished for her part?

“Girl,” he said, a slight warning in his tone, the datapad placed down on the table now, his attention solely on her.

“You’ve been feeling guilt for the past two days. You’ve been exceptionally _loud_ about it, in fact.”

“Sorry,” Rey mumbled. She didn’t know how else to feel her feelings. How do you keep them from being _too loud?_ As far as she was aware, they’d always been safely secure inside herself. 

“You’ve already told me what happened with Wolson,” he continued. “So what else is there?”

“There’s nothing else, Sir,” she insisted, “I told you everything about what happened, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

Rey kept her eyes on the cup in her hand, the words caught behind her teeth. She’s never asked for a punishment before. It’s always happened to her whether she wanted it or not. Was it selfish of her to ask for it? Or just crazy?

“Don’t start keeping things to yourself now,” Lord Ren warned. “Not again. I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

Rey hunched in her seat while chewing her bottom lip, wholly uncomfortable. She was able to tell him the truth before about Wolson and FN-2187 because it had been fact, a report of actions. But this was an opinion. A _want,_ almost. And slaves were not allowed to have those. 

“We’re at the Table,” her master told her, voice hard. “So _tell me._ ”

It was an order, and she needed to obey.

“I should be punished,” she quickly blurted.

There was a long pause, and then Lord Ren asked,

“For what?”

Rey lowered her head a fraction more. 

“For all of it.”

“For all of _what?”_

He was becoming frustrated with her skirting answers. She was messing this up, making it worse.

Rey clenched her eyes shut, ashamed to say it but knowing she had to.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Sergeant Wolson,” she said, voice ragged with guilt. “I shouldn’t have gone with him and the soldier. I shouldn’t have betrayed you. If I had pressed the alarm button, they would have been stopped and you wouldn’t have been punished.” 

She looked up at the unreadable silver lines and black visor, her guilt written plainly on her face now, weighing down her heart and twisting her stomach. The words came freely:

“You were _severely_ injured because of me, Sir. _Burned,_ because of me. How can you not want to see me punished for that? How can you sit there and let me shower and give me new clothes and let me sit here, when you were hurt so badly you almost had to go to _another ship?”_

Was it all a ploy? Was he luring her into a false sense of security, only to punish her later? What was his goal? What was the point?  
  
He sat thinking quietly, and then his mask tilted. 

“And for all of that, what sort of punishment do you think you deserve?”

Rey looked back down, heart hammering.

_“Go on, little shit-slave. Pick one. The cane? The whip? or—“_

Rey shuddered, shaking the voice away. 

“I would be dead by now on Jakku, or worse,” she finally said. “Probably flayed alive and left in the desert for the ripper-raptors.” 

“Well,” Lord Ren mused after a pause, gloved hands folded on the table, “unfortunately we are sorely lacking in ripper-raptors aboard the _Finalizer,_ so you’ll have to think of something else.”

Rey peered at him, brows furrowed. Was he _joking?_

But he continued more sternly, 

“I already told you that anything you tell me at this table is not punishable. I do not go back on my promises. I have also told the Knights I consider it a closed matter now.”

Rey thought about Lord Cseenan’s threat, about his hissed _“traitor!”_ and wondered if the Barabel would actually listen to his master. After witnessing him almost ignore Lord Ren before to attack her in the corridor, she did not have much confidence.

“But,” she whimpered, hands held painfully clasped in her lap, nails digging into the skin, “it’s all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” he argued back, tone sharp. His head tilted like an animal listening for something, and then his hand flexed right before she felt her arms lurch up with a will of their own, landing on the table and almost upsetting her cup. 

The same flexed hand moved and covered her own, plucking her left from the right and pressing it to the table.

“ _Stop that,_ ” Lord Ren growled. 

Rey was frozen, shaken by how easily he had taken over her limbs, her whole body prickling from the contact of his cold leather glove on her flushed hand. It warmed as it pressed further— a small order, a warning—before retreating. 

She stared at her flattened hand, at the small half-moon indents going red there, ashamed of them and yet feeling as if it still wasn’t enough to dispel the tightness in her chest.

He pointed: “There will be no more of that, understood?”

“Yessir,” she whispered, balling her fists, face aflame.

“Good.” His hand drifted back down, the fingers flexing and then fisting on the table. 

“Your actions with the traitors were not the sole reason I was punished.”

Rey felt her breath leave her in a great whoosh, her confusion reaching new heights as she looked up.

“What?” She breathed.

He shook his head.

“My master punished me because I had failed a very important mission, and because I lied to him; I omitted things from my reports to him about certain goings on aboard the ship—things that happened while you were in the bacta tank, things unrelated to the desertion.”

Lord Ren was burned so badly because he _lied?_

Rey realized what he had done to her in the medbay truly _was_ a kindness compared to what he had apparently gone through. Would he ever burn her for lying? 

She did not want to find out.

“If I had been more forthcoming with my reports to the Supreme Leader,” he added, “my punishment would have been much less severe. The desertion was merely the impetus towards what was inevitable. So do not take on all of the responsibility for what happened to me—you played a minor part in it.”

“A minor part?” She echoed, disbelieving.

He gave a small flick of his fingers in begrudging acknowledgment.

“Your going into the tank was a catalyst of sorts. But you would not have needed to have such a bacta treatment if I had not neglected you so terribly. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided had I been a better master from the beginning.”

Rey was speechless, her mouth working but words were a jumbled mess in her mind now. 

He was blaming himself for it all? She could sense it. He was frustrated and angry at _himself,_ not her.

Rey was reeling. 

“Lord Ren,” Rey protested breathlessly, “I—“

_“Girl,”_ he said sternly and leaned forward, “What’s done is done. I consider the desertion matter closed now, especially given your oath to me. Think of it like a new beginning, a fresh start. What you do from today on is what matters now, understand?”

Rey nodded, overwhelmed with too many emotions to name, some emotions of which did not seem to belong wholly to her. Why was she feeling so many things? 

“Good.” He sat back again, quietly looking at her from behind his mask. She sat, staring down at her cup, bringing it up for another small sip again after a moment, still trying to figure out what all of this meant. 

They lapsed into another silence wherein Lord Ren seemed to have decided he was finished with talking for now and returned to reading stiffly. To Rey’s relief his prickly mood appeared to smooth out after several minutes, and the air cleared somewhat of the before awkwardness and tension.

She found herself somewhat numbly enjoying the hush between them, even if it was slightly stiff and awkward on her part. She was not used to sharing a table with a master. Not since Nybian, but the old woman had not been the norm. 

And after spending almost an entire twenty-four hours sleeping, she was beginning to feel a bit of the brain fog creeping up on her again after the shower had chased it away, a sort of serene grogginess falling over her. But still, something was off. Lord Ren wasn’t going to punish her for what she did. Why didn’t that make her feel better? 

Rey stared at her cup, watching the brownish liquid swirl, but her face turned up when she felt a shift in the air. Lord Ren was looking at her again, and she had a brief moment of panic where she wondered if she was doing something wrong. 

“You are looking much healthier now,” he voiced, a low rumble of sound. “How do you feel?”

Rey blinked, then paused in thought.

“I feel much better, Sir. A little tired but, I slept a lot yesterday.” Her tone was contrite, hating to admit to being such a layabout. But then she looked down at where the IV had been and it softened. _“_ I’m _…very_ happy to have the needle gone.”

He gave a shallow nod. 

“As am I.”

And she knew it was true. She could almost feel it—his relief, his contentedness. How did she know it? How could she feel it?

Was this what he experienced with her own emotions? She couldn’t imagine how annoying it must be to experience her ‘loudness’. Perhaps she would ask him about it sometime—ask him how she could make herself quiet. 

_The wall_ , her mind supplied, and suddenly Rey knew what she could do with all her spare healing time. 

Of course. The wall. How could she forget? How could she let so much time go wasted, staring at the ceiling, thinking stupid, useless thoughts? She should have been trying to build the wall up. 

It was another goal, another plan that made her feel more in control, more settled. Yes, she knew how to be useful. She knew how to be a good slave:

_Build the wall_ , she decided, sipping. _Block the wind._

_I don’t know if I can do it without Lord Ren’s help_ , she thought with a frown. _But I can certainly try._

Lord Ren’s head tilted, electric voice dry again.

“I can hear you thinking about me.”

Rey choked, spluttering broth and coughing.

She _absolutely_ needed to build a wall, _as soon as kriffing possible._

“Sorry, Sir,” she wheezed and warbled, using her sleeve to wipe up the droplets on the table.

“What is it this time?” He asked, datapad ignored once more.

Rey finished coughing and clearing her throat, her voice hoarse,

“It’s nothing, Sir. Just..just thoughts.” 

“Very _loud_ thoughts.”

She ducked her head again, face red. 

“Sorry, Sir.”

He observed her without comment for a long, awkward moment, and then gestured at the cup.

“Drink.”

Rey cleared her throat again, rasping, “Yessir.”

He waited until after she took another sip before speaking again.

“I’ve decided on the specific sorts of tasks I will have you doing until I can trust you to do more.”

Rey froze, her eyes lifting with her hopes. So he wasn’t giving her to the First Order, then. He was still keeping her on. 

“Once you’ve finished learning the rules and codes of this ship and the Ren,” he began, sitting back stiffly, “-and once you can walk without becoming breathless and weak, you will be the one retrieving our meals, clean laundry, and such, to be brought here. The less droids coming here, the better.” 

Rey nodded, happy to be doing anything at all to be useful. She’d wash the laundry by hand, even. 

“I can do it now, Sir,” she told him, desperate to prove herself.

“No, you can’t,” he droned, sending a jab through Rey’s heart. “You’ve healed some but your recovery will still take at least a month, as per the medics’ estimation. We’ll give it a couple weeks, and see how you’re able to hold up. This ship is very large; you’ll have to walk long distances at times.”

“I’m feeling much stronger now, Sir,” she insisted. “I can start sooner.”

He sat and looked at her, inspecting her from behind his dark visor. She tried to sit upright, to show she was better than how he thought she was, better than the reality of her condition. 

She knew if he told her she was starting today, she would find the strength and endurance to get it done, even if she collapsed a couple times in the process. She had worked under much harsher conditions on Jakku. Much, _much_ harsher.

“If you’re so desperate to prove me wrong,” he droned frostily, the air going cold, “then let’s see.” He stood, stiffly motioning for her to do the same. 

Her heart fell, suddenly nervous. He was setting her up to fail. That never ended well for her when her masters did that. 

“I’m not trying to prove you wrong, Sir,” she pleaded quickly. Well, technically she was, but not in the way he was taking it. She just wanted to prove her worth. 

“I’m just…”

She looked away, the words getting stuck again. It wasn’t her place. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have just accepted what he’d said and waited. She should have been patient. 

She’s the one who deserved to be proven wrong. If she collapses somewhere she deserves it, she deserves to be left where she lay.

Rey let her eyes flutter closed briefly, and then stood. 

“Nevermind, Sir. I’m sorry—”  
Lord Ren gave another gruff sigh, looking away, arms strained, gloves creaking into fists. He turned back to her sharply, pointing.

“Sit.”

She did, confused. 

He sat as well, placing his fists on the table slowly, gingerly. The air chilled even more.

Rey’s mouth turned down in worry. _Burns all over._

After a tense moment wherein Rey was sure he was going to lash out at her no matter what promises he’d made, Lord Ren asked, “What sorts of things did you have to do for your master on Jakku?”

Rey blinked at the question, taken aback by the sudden pivot in topic. She was uncertain where he was going with it, but answered after only a moment to think.

“Under Troog’s ownership,” she began slowly, “I did the usual sort of work; cleaning, fetching things for him, harvesting water, sending and receiving messages—whatever he needed or wanted. I was also one of his mechanic shop workers. It was part of my duties to fix up droids and the like for him to sell, and keep out thieves.” Her voice lowered, “Sometimes I was sent out to find scrap and broken things to bring back too.” 

It was difficult work most days, especially out in the unforgiving Jakku sun, but it was fulfilling work more often than not. And it wasn’t nearly as grueling or punishing as what Vins had her doing, so Rey was not known to complain about the Gorgon master. 

Lord Ren gave a contemplative nod, and a low, “You certainly seemed to know things about droids by what you did with the medidroid’s memory.”

Rey looked down sheepishly. 

“Sometimes they hear things they’re not supposed to record,” she mumbled. 

“Indeed,” he agreed with a sardonic lilt. “Which is why I don’t like having them sniffing about.”

“I’m sorry about FX-8 having to be here,” Rey mumbled further, guilt returning. 

“It’s a small price to pay,” he told her, “to keep you from ending back in the medbay.”

Yes, but it felt like a failure to need medical help at all. She could work perfectly fine like this. It would be hard, but she could do it. 

_I’m so useless like this._

“You’re thinking loudly again,” he mused, gloved fingers tapping at the table.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she lamented, face red. She shouldn’t have slept so much yesterday. She should have been trying to build the wall. 

Rey wanted to ask Lord Ren if he could show her again, just one more time so she could know how to access that part of herself better. But he wasn’t completely healthy yet, and he probably had much more important things to do. He would help her when he saw fit to do so. 

She trained her eyes on the cup in her hands and tried to clear her mind, tried to dampen her thoughts and emotions. She didn’t want to bother her master anymore. It was embarrassing. 

She could feel him staring at her and it was distracting her, making her more flustered. And just when she thought she was surely being even more loud than she had been before even trying to quiet herself, Lord Ren’s commlink chimed from its place beside his neatly made bed.

They both turned to look at it, and then Lord Ren did the same casual hand movement, causing the device to lift and drift forward in the air. But it faltered, dropping to the floor as he tensed, his hand fisting and his breathing suddenly ragged. 

Rey’s forearm and hand tingled, and she looked at her master in alarm. _Pain._ He was in pain again. Not as bad as his spasms before, but still not good.

Her eyes landed back on the fallen commlink as it beeped again, and she was up out of her seat before fully thinking about it, the correct course of action so obvious to her conditioned mind that she was picking it up and silently placing it on the table by her master’s painfully strained hand, then back in her seat sipping the broth with eyes lowered as if nothing was amiss, as if Lord Ren had not shown his apparently persistent ailments at all.

He was not as healed as he seemed. 

Whatever pains or cramp it was faded before long, and he took in a deep breath, shaking out the hand and bringing the commlink up, electric voice slightly rough.

“Ren.”

_“Are you well, Master?”_ Lord Tomaxx’s voice called back. 

Rey blinked at the flare of embarrassment she could feel from Lord Ren, although it disappeared quickly.

“Yes. What is it?” he growled. 

There was a short pause, and Rey wondered if she should leave the room, in case there was sensitive information about to be communicated. Removing memory from droids was one thing, but for slaves who heard things they were not supposed to, the results were far more bloody, and oftentimes fatal. 

She wasn’t sure if Lord Ren was the type to cut out people’s tongues to keep them from talking, but she would’t rule it out for Lord Cseenan. 

_“Should Cseenan and I continue with our normal morning training or are we convening in the Situation room?”_

Lord Ren thought for a moment before answering, “We’ll all meet in the Situation room for today, to continue the research. Training will be moved to after luncheon.”

_“Yes, Master.”_

“You two get started; I will join you soon,” he finished, and the link cut off after another rattling acknowledgment from the Knight.

Rey continued to keep her eyes down, watching the sediment swirl in the cup again. _I see and hear nothing. Because I am nothing._

She knew she was probably going to be left in the rooms again, probably in retaliation against her overeagerness before. She would have to be more careful about trying to prove herself, so that she wasn’t somehow insulting Lord Ren in the process. 

“Finish that,” he commanded with a tip of his head at the broth. “We’ll leave when you’re done.”

Rey had the cup halfway up when she froze, then lowered it again slightly, brow furrowed and heart fluttering with sudden hope.

“Leave?”

“Yes,” he replied, thumb brushing slowly against the commlink in his grasp. “We’ll fetch your datapad and then join the others. I want you to study while we’re working.”

Rey set the cup down, daring to look at her master fully, daring to eye him for any tells that he could be lying. But he wasn’t. She could Feel it. 

She blinked, remembering herself, lowering her gaze and nodding quickly. 

“Yessir.”

The last dregs of the broth were slightly too much, but she swallowed it down with relish. 

_Another step forward, another inch towards healed_ , she thought. _Soon I’ll be on normal food. Soon all of this will be behind us._

Rey knew it was dangerous to have hope, to look forward to things, but this time…This time she had a feeling things might just work out in the end. Her master was finally taking her outside the rooms, for something _other than_ medical reasons. She was going to see other parts of the ship. 

She was finally being shown a possible place for her here, and she was more than ready to prove she was worth all of the mess she’d left unintentionally in her wake until now. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the ending of this chapter five times.  
> *wheeze*
> 
> Some very interesting developments happening though.....👀 Very interesting indeeeeeed....*wiggles eyebrows suggestively*
> 
> Does anyone else feel the need to dig their nails into their skin whenever they think of embarrassing or shameful things they've done in their life, or is that just me and Rey 😂😬🙃
> 
> School is starting back up this week so the next posting date will be next Sunday, September 5th at 9PM Japan time.  
> Next chapter: We see the fever dream and on from Kylo's POV....
> 
> Also:  
> 2020 can seriously go fuck itself. I am so heartbroken about Chadwick Boseman. 😞😞😞 Rest in Power, man ❤️
> 
> Lastly: I drew a picture for Chains that I'm really proud of. It's also on my tumblr, http://www.veggieheist.tumblr.com


	54. So Much White Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo recovers from his fever dreams, and has a conversation with Girl...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning only for Rey's small bout of self-harm, as seen last chapter. 
> 
> This is a long chapter again. Enjoy!

* * *

Everything was a blur—a searing amalgamation of heat and noise and nauseating colors, overlaid with an all-encompassing agony that tore through Kylo with every jolt of movement as he laid in his bed. 

There was minor relief from the wet cloth pressed to his face and neck, but his fever burned through the coolness quickly. And still, it didn’t matter. Kylo was not there. He was somewhere else—a dark place filled with noise and dizzying sights and heat. There was no relief there. 

“Just culling the—“

“—got a call, I didn’t want to wake—“  
  
“—you’re a monster—“

“—too much darkness in him, too much Vader—“

“—not capable of goodness—“

“—you’re my master, not them—“

“—it’s a privilege—“

  
“—c’mon, Ben, let’s go check out the—“

“May the Force be with you—“

  
“Stop, shut up,” Kylo rasped. But the voices did not stop. They continued, louder and louder, pelting him with sound and too many memories and faces of people he never wanted to see again. 

The sounds and images were weighing him down, the cacophony of shattering ceramic and wind making him stumble and cower. A deep voice, dark and dripping with contempt oozed from the fray, making Kylo’s quakes bone-rattling and his stomach clench in fear.

_“Such a disappointment……such a mistake, young Solo…..so weak…..not worthy of your bloodline….not worthy of my teachings….”_

_I am worthy_ , he thought desperately. _I can be better. I can be stronger. I’m not my fath—_

Pain struck him, and he seized in his mind and on his bed, crying out. It afforded him only a moment of lucidity before he was crashing back down into the heat and black magma of his mind. 

Back into the voices screaming at him, back into the vases shattering, back into the blood. He thought he would go mad if he had to deal with it all for any longer. It was too much. He was going to go mad. He was—

But then he felt it—a presence, something soft, inquisitive, worried, just outside his mind, tentatively brushing against the walls he had so carefully built up and fortified.

It pressed, not trying to get in, not trying to hurt him, just whispering words of helplessness and concern, and the small relief he got from the feel of it made him do the most insane thing he’s ever done:

Kylo reached out through his mental wall— his only protection, his only shield from everything trying to do him harm— curled around the inquisitive tendril, and _pulled them in._

They resisted, and he knew he shouldn’t force them into such a hell. But the relief, the potential for calm, the desperation for something to help him, anything, _please, just, make it stop,_ made him stronger than any amount of resistance, and so he did it anyways.

And then the foreign presence was completely in there with him, in that dark churning magma pit of his mind. He pulled them close, relishing in the coolness of their body, so small and trembling. 

Scared. Terrified of the chaos. Terrified…of him. 

_I won’t hurt you,_ he wanted to tell the small creature in his arms. His hand came up, grasping their nape, holding them to him because he was safe, he could protect them from the maelstrom he had pulled them into. 

They relaxed against him, and somehow that small subconscious act of acceptance and trust soothed him, reminded him that he was strong, that he was capable of protecting the things that were his. 

He shuddered as their hand made a soft pass down his back. Such relief, such calm it elicited. He could stay there forever if they would keep doing it. How long had it been since he had felt a gentle touch? One without an ulterior motive? 

Forever.

“It’s okay,” a young voice, a female voice, reassured him. “You’re going to be okay.”

_“I’m not,”_ he wanted to say, feeling like a child and hating himself for it. _“I’m not okay. I’m sick and hurt and scared.”_

But then she was stiffening in his arms, alarmed by something, and then she was slipping away, ripped from his grasp and drawn out of him like an arrow pulled from a wound. It left him reeling, the noise and images descending upon him again like rathtars on spilled blood. He tried to fight them off again, but he was freezing and his tremors made it impossible.

Kylo shivered on his bed, drenched in sweat. A blanket appeared, covering him, giving him some small lessening of cold, although he almost pushed it off for how it rubbed against his wounds. He felt hot tears dripping down the sides of his face, but they were quickly wiped away by a wet cloth. 

_Come back. Please, come back._  
  
But like all the others, she did not. And Kylo was left alone to the fray once again.

* * *

  
It seemed to last for eternity, until it didn’t. The chaos died down enough for him to stop shivering, which allowed him to finally sleep. A sound jolted him awake briefly, and he found himself calling out for Tomaxx as if the Chiss was to blame. What was he doing? Did something break? 

“It was just the slave, Master,” the Knight told him quietly. “All is well. You can rest.”

All is well. The slave is well. Girl is well.

He could sense her, close by. She was plagued by an oppressive amount of guilt and self-loathing, but she was _Here._ Not taken. The relief allowed him to close his fluttering eyes and succumb to sleep again.

* * *

  
The next time Kylo woke up, the room was dark and empty.

He turned his head to see the chrono and realized it was almost midday-cycle. He had completely slept the morning away—his first time in a very long time doing so. He chastised himself for wasting so much time, but pushed the rebuke away quickly. He had been fever-sick from electrical burns. He could afford to sleep in a little. 

He hoped Tomaxx and Cseenan had managed to get some sleep in the night, but he suspected they had probably both stayed awake to watch after him. Hopefully they got rest today. He certainly would not be ordering them to do anything to the contrary; he was barely awake or strong enough himself.

Kylo lay in bed, dozing, the pains of his body slowly waking him up further as the nerves came back on-line after being numbed by his sleep. He shifted slightly and knew he needed to change his bandages again.

As if on cue, his bedroom door hissed open to allow a medidroid to file in, followed by a kitchen droid with a tray. Kylo watched it deliver the meal to his table—an assortment of organized medical supplies gently pushed out of the way—and then it left and he was prodded out of bed for a diagnostic check. 

Kylo almost could not push himself upright, such was his lethargy and loss of strength, but he would be damned if he would let a kriffing droid lift him up like a weak babe. He used the robot only for balance as he lumbered to the ‘fresher to relieve himself and wash his face, and then sat at the table to let it change the wraps and patches as he picked unenthusiastically at the food. 

It tasted like ash in his mouth and made his stomach curl somewhat, so he choked down a few more bites and then drank the carafe of water. With how much he had been sweating last night, he knew he needed the hydration. 

If it weren’t for the stinging— and occasionally piercing— pains from the droid’s work, Kylo felt he could almost fall asleep again sitting upright at the table. But the reminders of his condition kept him awake until the droid was finished. It urged him to use the eye and ear drops, and to take the medicine tablets it deposited in his palm, then left. Kylo applied the drops, and then with begrudging reluctance swallowed the tablets quickly before hobbling back to bed.

The bedsheets stank of fever sweat and bacta, but he was too tired to care. Next time he woke up, he’d do something about it. But for now, he just…wanted……to………sleep…..

* * *

  
His dreams were bizarre. 

There was a dream about a droid suspended in a vertical bacta tank telling riddles about small doors, a dream with a giant loth-cat selling fur-lined jackets right next to an ice sculpture shop on Jakku, and a dream where all of the MSE “mouse” droids on the ship were replaced with reddish rocks that zipped around the durasteel corridors towards some unknown target, leaving dust and debris in their wake.

When Kylo woke again he was sure the medicines were to blame for the strange visions, and decided he would refrain from taking anymore tablets before sleep from then on. He scowled as he gingerly sat up, moving to put his feet on the cold floor, going to lean over with elbows on knees but stopped for the pinch and slight stabbing along his diaphragm. 

Even though he’d healed the worst of it, and even with the high-grade burn bacta, the wound on his chest and stomach still ached and stung enough to make him wince, his connection to the Force flaring slightly. 

Ah, but it was good to feel powerful again, even if just for a small moment before the fatigue kicked back in.

Kylo was in the ‘fresher when the kitchen droid arrived with Tomaxx. He stepped out, not surprised to see the Knight standing by the table in the least, half because he had sensed him getting closer and half because he knew Tomaxx would want to check on him at least once.

“You’re up,” the Chiss said behind his mask as he scanned his master. 

“Yes,” Kylo rasped, and he cleared his throat of sleep and phlegm as he sat at the table. “For now.” 

“So you managed to sleep.”

“Yes.”

The dinner meal looked far more appetizing than luncheon had been, so he ate with more abandon, asking the Knight between bites if he had managed to get rest himself.

“Yes, Master. Both Cseenan and I got some sleep and food.”

“Good,” Kylo said, somewhat relieved. He was embarrassed about becoming so ill that he needed to be cared for like a child. Tomaxx and Cseenan were warriors, not caregivers. 

“We will all need our strength soon,” Kylo added.

The Knight nodded.

“Yes we will.”

Kylo eyed him, sensing a hesitance about him that belied a want to say something.

“Is there a specific reason you’re here, besides making sure I’m not dead?” he asked.

“Yes, Master." The Knight removed his helmet, smoothing his jet-black hair with a hand. Kylo felt the muscles in his back relax slightly, a release of tension he didn't realize he had.

"For the sake of transparency, I thought you should be aware of something. You were feverish for about five hours,” Tomaxx reported, his tone emotionless but his body slightly stiff, his red eyes focused on the table, “-during which time Cseenan and I took turns watching over you. There was a small lack of foresight on my behalf when I tasked Cseenan with getting a blanket for you, and he decided to take the one the slave was using.”

Kylo tensed again, looking up, his first thought one of sharp annoyance that Cseenan would take the blanket from Girl after he said she needed it more, and his second thought catching up to replace the first with sudden heightened alarm. The Barabel had gone out and been near her, and Kylo had been sick in bed. What if something happened? _Did_ something happen? 

He quickly assured himself of Girl’s _live_ presence in the Force. He could sense her just next door, her young mind abuzz from Tomaxx’s nearness. 

“Nothing happened to her,” the Knight further assured him. “But I thought you should know that Cseenan Ren is still afflicted by bloodlust around her. I’m not sure how long he’ll be like this, because he usually either kills his prey or we leave the planet where he finds them and gets over it after distance and time. Such prolonged exposure like this might not end well.”

Kylo continued eating for a moment, his brows furrowed in darkening thought. 

“And so what solution do you suggest, Tomaxx?” He finally asked after swallowing. “Do you suggest I send Cseenan or Girl away?”  
  
The Knight shook his head. 

“Nothing so drastic, Master. It’s already been made apparent that she is supposed to be here, based on the interpretation of your vision. But I do not think she should be allowed to wander the corridors alone. In fact, I think she should be kept in your rooms again until Cseenan finds balance.”

“Cseenan’s imbalance comes from our lack of dueling,” Kylo argued. “Once we complete the duel, he will no longer be afflicted by his bloodlust—to the same degree he is now.” 

Kylo knew that he had exacerbated the Barabel’s problem by not agreeing to the duel when the Knight had first challenged him. If he had just fought Cseenan, perhaps his bloodlust would not have been fueled by so much hate and anger. 

Once again, Kylo’s poor choices were showing their due consequences where Girl was concerned. 

“That seems to me a risky bet to make, Master.”

Kylo looked up at the Knight, mouth turned down.

“I have faith that Cseenan will endure and overcome. I had thought you would think the same.”

Tomaxx inclined his head, conceding lowly, “I always believe he is capable of far more than he seems, even in spite of his slip-ups. But I also know him enough to know that even he has limits. I know you are adamant about keeping Girl, which is why I think we should proceed with caution where Cseenan is concerned.”

Kylo took in a deep breath, eating another bite as he thought. 

He did not want to lock Girl back in his rooms again. She had shown before that she did not do well in seclusion and idleness. But he was also fully aware of just how close the Barabel had gotten to killing her. Cseenan was still affected by it, on top of his disdain towards her about her role in the desertion. 

She would need to be watched, constantly. 

“Your caution is well warranted, Tomaxx,” Kylo mused. “I will keep Girl by my side, or here, unless you are also willing to keep an eye on her?”

“I will do whatever my Master commands of me,” the Chiss replied without inflection, blue face unreadable. “If that means keeping Girl alive, then I will do my utmost best to obey.”

Kylo gave him a pointed glance. 

“Even if that means fighting Cseenan?”

Tomaxx looked to the side, voice wry, “He would rather cut his own tail off than raise a claw to me.”

“That makes one of us,” Kylo muttered around another bite.

“Which brings up an important point,” the Knight added. “You challenged him to a duel.”

“Indeed I did.”

“Was it something brought out of the delirium of pain you were experiencing on the shuttle, or do you actually mean it?”

Kylo sat silently chewing, feeling himself awash with guilt and shame again. 

“I offended him with how I overreacted to his attack on Girl,” he murmured. “I took it much too far, consumed by the past as I was. Cseenan did not deserve the treatment he endured from me.” Kylo looked up, the next words painful to say but important. “I recognize that I have done him wrong, and must atone for it in the Barabel way.” 

Tomaxx gave a curt nod.

“An admirable admission, Master. Perhaps a duel will help. We will have to wait and see.”

Kylo nodded back.

“Yes we will.”

The conversation quieted after that as Kylo continued eating and Tomaxx took it upon himself to check his patches and wraps again for any that looked like they needed changing. They were for the most part secure, though, so he left them.

Kylo had a sudden thought, remembering the blanket.

“Did Girl receive a replacement for the blanket Cseenan took?” He asked.

Not one to be caught off-guard often, Tomaxx replied after a small pause,

“A droid brought her one it seems. She was not without for long, Master.”

_Good._ He did not want her to suffer the cold again. Tomorrow he would arrange a cot for her out of the way behind the couch. He could set up a room for her down the hall, but with Cseenan unchecked the way he was, Kylo did not want to risk it. She would stay here for the time being, until the risk was null. 

When Kylo was done with the meal the Knight gave a nod in farewell, satisfied that his master was eating and on the mend, before slipping his mask back on and following the kitchen droid out. 

Girl’s anxiety flared slightly, but it seemed like she was finally getting over the trauma Tomaxx had caused her by the lack of extreme panic now that she had shown before. 

_Perhaps he had been gentle_ , as he said, Kylo thought. _Perhaps Girl was just unaccustomed to such a probe, her mental endurance being of a weaker sort._

Whatever the reason, he looked forward to getting back to a level of normalcy among his crew soon. 

Kylo tried to stay awake by reading his datapad, but the food in his belly and the lethargy from healing overcame his efforts, and he found himself slipping back into bed, giving a gruff sigh when he realized again he hadn’t change the bedding. 

_In the morning_ , he decided. _First thing._

His sleep was dreamless for the most part, the only ones he could remember were merely of blankets, and Cseenan being pursued throughout the ship for stealing all of them. 

Kylo woke at his usual early time feeling both rejuvenated, and like the time he and the Knights had to stake out a den of vagabonds, for a week, on a planet that very well may have been what the inside of a giant bog worm felt and smelled like. 

He was utterly _disgusting._

As soon as Kylo got himself to his feet—pleased to feel less pained doing so this time—, he was stripping the bed, shoving all of the reeking bedclothes into the laundry chute— _these should be burned_ , he thought with a wrinkled nose— shucking off his pants and underwear to throw in for good measure before heading to the ‘fresher.

He turned the water on lukewarm, afraid a higher temperature would upset his remaining burns too much, and stepped in. The spray helped loosen most of the patches, which he let flop to the shower floor to be thrown out later. He turned the water colder when his exposed wounds began to sting, his breath freezing in his lungs from the slight shock.

Kylo relished in cleaning the grease and dried sweat from his hair as he soaped up the locks, but winced and hissed as the soap hit a few of the agitated lacerations on his back and chest. The pain was worth the feeling of being clean again, though, and he efficiently scrubbed the areas of his body where the wounds were sparse, mostly healed, or absent. 

Kylo realized he was undoubtedly lucky that his groin had escaped damage outside of a few singed hairs. He would’ve needed the bacta tank otherwise, and he was sure that would have been a bigger blow to his ego than the potential injury. 

Irritated by the stubble that had grown in the almost two days since his last shave, Kylo took up his razor, a sort of calm overcoming him when he could feel the smooth expanse of his jaw and face again. 

The tension eased even more from his muscles after he shut off the water and (gently) toweled dry. There was something to be said about showering after a long battle, no matter if it was the war kind or the sickness kind. Kylo felt like he could breathe again. 

The bathing sheet thrown down the chute and soggy bandages discarded, Kylo slipped on a clean pair of underwear before applying more drops to his ears and eyes, letting them clear before quickly assessing which burns required the bacta patches. 

The ones on his chest were still red and painful to the touch, but most of the others were either superficial marks or merely tender. He patched them up, wary of Ithowim’s advice about continuing to do so for another day or two, and then set to work remaking his bed. 

Once more settled by the precisely tucked and folded bed sheets— _Clean, neat, and tidy, Just as it should be_ — and confident that his wounds did not ‘require air’ anymore, Kylo began to dress. 

Pants, undershirt, ribbed longsleeve, tunic, robes, belt, gloves, socks, boots, mask. Each one a piece of armor. Each one protection against those who would see him and accuse him of being anything other than Kylo Ren—Master of the Knights of Ren, apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke. 

Monster. 

…And Master to a Force-sensitive slave girl. 

Kylo paused briefly as he slipped on his gloves, his eyes falling on his mask, which sat in it’s place by his bed. It sported several new nicks and burn marks now from his punishment. 

_“The girl won’t be a problem, will she? You will bend her to your will, break her into submission, teach her to cut herself off from the Force, won’t you?_

_“Yes…”_

Kylo felt guilt pierce him, the true realization of what he had agreed to causing his lungs to briefly compress painfully, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. 

Girl had promised herself to him and given up the chance to be truly free because she believed he could teach her how to control her powers. She trusted him to show her how to use them, trusted him to treat her as if her powers were a normal part of her, as opposed to something wrong that needed correcting. 

But his master had ordered him to effectively neuter her. To take from her that which had been the reason she’d stayed. 

If he got her cut off from the Force, would she still serve him? Would she stay? Or would she consider it a renege against the vow she’d given, and find a way to leave?

And once she was no longer such a mysterious enigma where the Force was concerned, would he even care if she did?

Kylo didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it. First things first, he needed to heal. He needed Girl to heal. And he needed his Knights and slave to figure out how to live with each other without anyone dying.

He knew she was awake by the particular insistence by which her guilt-ladened mind prickled at the edge of his senses, and he frowned. She had been feeling an extreme amount of guilt and shame lately. He thought she would get over it after confessing her story to him, but she was almost _more_ remorseful and distressed now than she’d been during her confession. 

In fact, as a kitchen droid delivered a breakfast tray and left, Girl’s thoughts seemed to circle down a path of such self-reproach and loathing that Kylo wondered if she was suicidal. 

She seemed prone to bouts of such deprecating thoughts. More than once now he had to tell her to stop. 

What was her problem?

It was incredibly annoying—if a little disturbing—and so with quick movements he put on his mask—the last of his shielding; the tension in his chest completely dispelled now—and opened the door.

“Girl.”

She flinched violently with a “Y-yessir!”, something clattering to the floor from her hands. Kylo was quick to call the item to himself, concerned that she had somehow gotten a blade and had been in the process of cutting herself with it. 

But it was merely the identichip. 

She looked at him, still enamored by his small displays of power even now. What will she look like when she finally sees the true extent to his abilities? She only knew the ones that brought pain, but he was capable of so much more than that.

She was too. 

Would she be content to only ever witness the powers she had the potential to learn? For him to never know her capabilities…it seemed such a waste.

But Supreme Leader had commanded him, and he must obey. The punishment for not doing so would certainly kill him—and her. 

Kylo shoved the disappointing thoughts away, noticing that Girl was alone this time.

“Where is FX-8?” He asked. 

“He said I don’t need the IV anymore,” she told him, hand brushing against her needle-less arm, “and that he needed to be serviced. He’ll probably come back later.”

“Good,” he said with a nod.

No IVs anymore, no risk of pulling anything out. One step closer to recovered, one step closer to his failures being resolved.   
  
Perhaps someday they’d be forgotten as well.

Kylo quickly realized this was the first time they had been alone together without some complication or mess to muddle it up since she came aboard. 

Granted, she was still ill, and he was not in good shape either, but there were no seriously pressing matters, no drugs, no intruding medics, and far less misunderstandings now. He knew where she stood, and although there were things that would need to be settled—such as her fear and lack of trust in him and the Knights—Kylo knew that they were on much more stable ground now than they’d ever been.

The relief was palpable, but he found himself momentarily at a loss for what to do with her. 

In the span of a couple breaths he came to the conclusion that the first thing she needed to do was tidy herself. 

“The last time you washed was two days ago, correct?” he asked.

Girl thought for a second and then nodded. 

“Yessir.”

Kylo turned slightly to open up the doorway, beckoning with his head. 

“Go wash up.”

Girl rose to her feet with another “yessir,” moving past him with eyes downcast and hands fidgeting at her middle. The sleeves of the black shirt had unrolled somewhat, bunching at her wrists, the wide neckline down one shoulder, and Kylo had another realization.   
  
She was going to need clean clothes.

“Wait.”

Girl froze, turning to look at him nervously. 

Kylo moved to his drawers, pulling out the items that had been delivered there some time ago. He’d been mildly confused as to why an officer uniform—among other items—had suddenly shown up folded alongside his things, until he’d remembered his initial dealings with Officer Vines. He was finally able to make good of the uncomfortable request now.

“Here,” he said, handing the pile of clothing to the waiting slave. “You have fifteen minutes. Use _all_ of the fifteen minutes.”

She looked up with a question in the line of her brow.

“I’m going to eat while you wash,” he told her in explanation. “I’d rather not have to rush.”

Fifteen minutes was still a bit of a rush, but he doubted she would be comfortable or able to stay in the ‘fresher for twenty, so he would just have to eat quickly today. It was a risk to trust her to keep time while he was without his mask, but he reasoned it would be a test of sorts. And if he sensed her opening the door sooner than fifteen, he could just keep the door shut with the Force.

Girl nodded in understanding.

“Yessir.”

And then she disappeared into the ‘fresher. 

Confident she was surely showering and therefore unlikely to open the door, Kylo removed his mask and quickly tucked in to the breakfast, polishing it off within eight minutes. Truthfully he was starving after not having a solid meal in at least a day, so it was no great hardship to all but inhale the food.

FX-8 returned in the meantime as well, bringing with it a cup of something for Girl. 

<Captain Ithowim instructs that Girl drink this supplement broth slowly> it told him. <Is there anything concerning her condition, or your condition, you would like to report, sir?>

His burns ached and stung, and his left ear was still slightly muffled, but it was all tolerable and therefore nothing to report about. Girl also did not seem to have any issues, although if she said anything to him he would message the medbay. But for now, they were fine. 

“No,” he told it. “You’re dismissed.”

The droid beeped in acknowledgment, said it would return with something for her at lunch, and then left.

Kylo took out his datapad, browsing through the latest news on the holonet, searching for any signs that the Resistance was planning anything, or that the First Order had been found out. All was relatively quiet, except for the usual galactic humdrum. 

He was in the middle of reading a critical report on Galactic expenditure for Inner Rim developments when the air shifted and the ‘fresher door hissed open, letting out a cloud of muggy air. 

Girl stood in the doorway, cleaned and dressed, her brown hair swept back into her usual buns, sharp cheeks red from what Kylo assumed was a hot shower. 

The black uniform was slightly big, but fit better than the super oversized clothes he’d given her, and would provide more warmth and cover than the thin medbay outfit. The shoulder pads were a tad too angular on her bony frame, and the belt cinched around her waist accentuated what little curves she had in a way that made her look more like a child trying on adult clothing. She was still emaciated, and somehow the better fitting outfit threw it into starker contrast than the loose-fitted items from before. 

A part of him did not enjoy how she looked more First Order than part of the Knights of Ren, but they were clothes, crisp and appropriate. They would do for now. There was nothing else for her to wear, anyways. She couldn’t keep wearing his own clothes, not if she was to look respectable. 

Kylo gave a nod of approval after his short scan. 

“The uniform is a bit big, but in time I’m sure you’ll fit into it better.”

“Yessir,” Girl nodded, fidgeting slightly. 

“Come sit. The medidroid brought you something.”

She hesitated only for a moment before sitting in the other chair, peering into the cup and sniffing at it quietly with a small frown.

“Drink it,” Kylo ordered.

“Yessir,” she replied, picking the cup up.

_“Slowly,”_ he added, remembering the droid’s message.   
  
She nodded and sipped at it. Kylo watched her secretly, making sure she wasn’t going to be sick, and then satisfied that she was able to keep it down, he went back to reading the article.

It was slightly difficult to focus at first, so aware of her presence as he was because of the nearly audible mind-static coming from her. But as she settled into sitting quietly, sipping her broth, it became somewhat muted and he was able to concentrate and get lost in the words on his datapad again.

_“…Within this group of spending, the redistribution of income in the form of social benefits and transfers in credits or in kind is the most important at 21.6% of GDP. The next largest category is operating costs at 18.2% of GDP (including compensation of employees which alone accounts for 11.1% of New Republic GDP). Interest payments on borrowing and rent paid by planetary government and public spending on galactic capital investment (gross capital formation) each represents—“_

“How do you feel, Sir?”

Kylo frowned at the question, thrown off his reading to respond with a dull, “Fine.” 

He was still in pain, but it was manageable. Occasionally his muscles twitched but he hadn’t had a serious spasm since yesterday, and with the burn-grade bacta he was sure he would be almost completely healed by the end of the week. 

Girl was silent, although her mouth turned down and her brows furrowed. Kylo began to read again, rereading a paragraph to find his place but found himself pausing once more at the growing feelings of guilt and self-loathing coming from the slave. It was like a strong wind, loudly rushing through an enclosed space, some indiscernible words floating within the gale.

Kylo looked up at her in exasperation and puzzlement. 

“Why do you still feel guilty?” he asked. “Is there something else you haven’t told me?”  
  
His talk with her before had technically been cut-off by the sudden spasm attack, although he thought they had gotten through everything in time. But, she _had_ managed to keep a lot of things to herself since she’d come aboard. It would not surprise him in the least if there was something else plaguing her she had failed to mention before.

But she shook her head no, as if she could continue to hide it without him finding out the truth. 

“Girl,” he said, a slight warning in his tone, the datapad placed down on the table now, focusing his attention on her. He would not be letting this slide.

“You’ve been feeling guilt for the past two days. You’ve been exceptionally _loud_ about it, in fact.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, cheeks reddening.

“You’ve already told me what happened with Wolson,” Kylo continued. “So what else is there?” 

How much worse can it be than that? 

“There’s nothing else, Sir,” she insisted, looking up briefly, “I told you everything about what happened, I promise.”

Well, she wasn’t lying there.

“Then what is it?”

Gil kept her eyes on the cup in her hand, voice silent but her mind abuzz with thoughts. She obviously had something to say. 

“Don’t start keeping things to yourself now,” Kylo warned, slightly annoyed she was even trying. “Not again. I’m starting to see a pattern with you.”

Girl hunched in her seat further, gnawing on her bottom lip, discomfort in the tense way she sat.

“We’re at the Table,” Kylo reminded her. “So _tell me_.”

Hadn’t he already proven she could speak to him freely at the table? Did she think, after hearing her confess to outright betraying him and then not punishing her for it, that he would suddenly change his mind and discipline her for whatever the matter was now? He had made a promise—

“I should be punished,” she suddenly blurted, and Kylo felt his puzzlement reach new heights.

After a long moment wherein his brain tried to catch up with this strange development, he finally asked, 

“For what?”

Girl lowered her head a fraction more. 

“For all of it.”

“For all of _what?”_ Kylo asked, becoming frustrated. He wondered if she was always going to be so vague and cryptic, because if she was he may have to start looking into her mind. These guessing games would _not_ be allowed to persist.

The girl clenched her eyes shut, shame bubbling up, and then she finally spoke.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Sergeant Wolson,” she said, voice ragged with guilt.

_Obviously,_ Kylo thought, frowning as she continued.

“I shouldn’t have gone with him and the soldier. I shouldn’t have betrayed you. If I had pressed the alarm button, they would have been stopped, and you wouldn’t have been punished.” 

She looked up, her guilt written plainly on her face now, the same pleading sheen to her eyes from when she was lying to the investigators.

“You were _severely_ injured because of me, Sir. _Burned,_ because of me. How can you not want to see me punished for that? How can you sit there and let me shower and give me new clothes and let me sit here, when you were hurt so badly you almost had to go to _another ship?”_

Kylo sat, searching Girl’s openly repentant face, realizing that she was being completely serious about deserving punishment. He had thought she would jump on the chance to avoid being punished for what she did, he had thought she would gladly move on from it as if it never happened, but it seems her guilt and slave conditioning were stronger than her self preservation.   
  
It made him curious. 

“And for all of that, what sort of punishment do you think you deserve?” he asked.

Girl looked back down, pulse visibly throbbing at her neck. If she passed out from upsetting herself over this, he _was_ going to slap her. 

A shudder passed over her as she thought. 

“I would be dead by now on Jakku, or worse,” she finally said. “Probably flayed alive and left in the desert for the ripper-raptors.” 

“Well,” Kylo mused, unable to contain the sardonic lilt to his words, “unfortunately we are sorely lacking in ripper-raptors aboard the _Finalizer,_ so you’ll have to think of something else.”

Girl peered up at him, brows furrowed as if aghast, as if the thought of there _not_ being deadly creatures around as potential use for punishment was a foreign concept.

But he continued more sternly, wanting to put the matter to rest and not leaving any room for argument,

“I already told you that anything you tell me at this table is not punishable. I do not go back on my promises. I have also told the Knights I consider it a closed matter now.”

“But it’s all my fault,” she whimpered.

“No, it isn’t,” he argued back, tone sharp. And then he could feel something, a sort of prickle on his senses belying pain that he almost ignored, except he could tell it was coming from Girl. From the total self-deprecation pulsing from her, he knew in the span of a breath that she was hurting herself somehow, probably her hands by how his own were tingling, and for some reason it pissed him off. He was quick to call on the Force to bring her tightly clenched fingers to view on the table, her nails digging into the skin hard enough to almost draw blood. With a scowl he pulled her hands apart, pressing the left to the tabletop with a growled,

“ _Stop that._ ”

She was frozen in her seat, staring at where his black gloved hand all but engulfed her smaller one, and he tightened his grip minutely, pressing down as a warning— _do **not** move_—before pulling back.

He jabbed a finger in the air with a stern, “There will be no more of that, understood?” 

“Yessir,” she whispered, her own tiny fists balling, her face going red with the shame swirling around her. 

“Good,” he bit out. His hand was warm and felt like inaudible white noise. He flexed it to try and dispel some of the strange energy, then curled it into a tight fist on the table. 

“Your actions were not the sole reason I was punished,” he continued explaining, needing her to finally get it through her thick head that her guilt was largely misplaced. 

“What?” She breathed, and Kylo shook his head, not happy about having to rehash his failures, _again,_ but she should know, especially if she was taking his injuries all upon herself. The hubris of it annoyed him more than anything.

“My master punished me because I had failed a very important mission, and because I lied to him; I omitted things from my reports to him about certain goings on aboard the ship—things that happened while you were in the bacta tank, things unrelated to the desertion.”

_Such as my inability to move on from killing my best friend, almost killing Cseenan because of it, and nearly turning even Tomaxx against me._

“If I had been more forthcoming with my reports to the Supreme Leader,” he added, “my punishment would have been much less severe. The desertion was merely the impetus towards what was inevitable. So do not take on all of the responsibility for what happened to me—you played a minor part in it.”

“A minor part?” She echoed, disbelieving.

He gave a small flick of his fingers in begrudging acknowledgment.

“Your going into the tank was a catalyst of sorts. But you would not have needed to have such a bacta treatment if I had not neglected you so terribly. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided had I been a better master from the beginning.”

Girl looked speechless, her mouth working to say something, finally coming out with a weakly argumentative, “Lord Ren, I—“ Which Kylo quickly cut off, his patience running thin.

_“Girl,”_ he said sternly and leaned forward, “What’s done is done. I consider the desertion matter closed now, especially given your oath to me. Think of it like a new beginning, a fresh start. What you do from today on is what matters now, understand?”

She nodded silently.

“Good,” Kylo said, sitting back again, watching her as she stared down at her cup and sipped at it ponderously. 

When he could sense her guilt finally retreating, he returned to his reading, although it took several minutes for him to settle his own frustration enough to actually absorb the words written. 

_“…Social protection accounts alone for 39.4% of the total, or 19.9% of New Republic GDP. This function includes spending on sickness and disability, old age, family and children, unemployment, housing in the form of benefits in kind (including ground and space vehicle subsidies), and social exclusion. The highest spending on social protection is found in the Core region, on Coruscant (25.4%), Chandrila (24.2%) and Hosnian Prime (23.9%). Corellia, which has nearly the—“_

She was just so kriffing _confounding._

One minute he thought he understood Girl, and the next she was asking him to punish her. She _wanted_ to be punished? Hadn’t he shown he could be a cruel master in that regard? Didn’t his own wounds show just how dangerous it was to be punished for something as simple as _lying?_

And besides, even if he hadn’t promised not to discipline her, she was still recovering from her own ailments. A true reprimand would likely send her back three steps in her healing progress. 

Kylo looked up, observing her face and comparing it to how she had looked the day she’d gone into the bacta tank. She did seem much better, but he doubted her heart could take the stress of the kind of punishment he would use on her.

Probably sensing his attention, Girl lifted her gaze and then froze, a sudden nervousness rising.

_So jittery_ , he thought.  
  
“You are looking much healthier now,” he voiced in a calm murmuring observation, hoping it would help settle her. “How do you feel?”

Girl blinked, her nervousness abating to his satisfaction, then paused thoughtfully.

“I feel much better. I slept a lot yesterday,” she told him with an air of contriteness, and then looked down at her arm, lifting the sleeve to see the small mark where the IV had been. “And _I’m…very_ happy to have the needle gone.”

He gave a shallow nod. 

“As am I.”

He was glad to see she was improving. Even though he had done nothing to help—he was more often a hindrance, it seems— it still felt like a small victory.

She sipped at her drink, another cloud of thoughts filling the space around them from her open mind. It was so strange to hear them and feel her emotions so vividly. Was it because her mind was still so unprotected? Or was it the strength of her presence in the Force? Perhaps both?

He was content to just ignore her and finish reading, but for the one thought he could parse out, even if only partially:

_‘…Lord Ren’s…’_

How curious.

Kylo tilted his head, drawing her gaze from over the cup where she sipped.

“I can hear you thinking about me.”

It was an ill-timed thing to say by how Girl choked and coughed, placing the cup down quickly. 

“Sorry, Sir,” she wheezed and warbled, using her sleeve to wipe up the droplets on the table, much to his chagrin. There were perfectly useable flimsi wipes in the ‘fresher.

“What is it this time?” He asked, putting his datapad down once again.

“It’s nothing, Sir. Just..just thoughts.”

“Very _loud_ thoughts.” Loud enough that he was able to hear them. 

She ducked her head again, face red. 

“Sorry, Sir.”

He observed her without comment for a long, awkward moment. He knew the only way to stop her loud thoughts would be to build up her mental walls, but as much as he wanted to return to where they had been with it on the floor in the medbay, he was much too wary of doing anything that could be considered going against Snoke’s command. Kylo had a feeling the Supreme Leader would somehow know, and then he—and Girl—truly would be killed.

Kylo would just have to live with Girl being loud, and she would have to live with him commenting about it. It was the only thing to do until he figured out what to do.

But whether she was cut off from the Force or not, he decided he would make sure she knew she had a purpose here. 

_“I’m the glitch, unintended from birth,”_ she’d said about herself. The hidden meaning of _‘unwanted from birth’_ written beneath the words was something she seemed to believe wholeheartedly, and something Kylo felt a kinship to. She would not feel unwanted here. Not under his ownership. 

He gestured at the cup, a plan formulating. He had already mentioned that she would be doing various chores when she was deemed able, he might as well explain it better so she would know for sure that he had actual intention of following through.

“Drink.”

Girl cleared her throat again, rasping, “Yessir.”

He waited until after she took another sip before speaking again.

“I’ve decided on the specific sorts of tasks I will have you doing until I can trust you to do more.”

She froze, her eyes lifting with a hesitantly hopeful gleam.

“Once you’ve finished learning the rules and codes of this ship and the Ren,” he began, sitting back stiffly, wary of the injures near his spine, “and once you can walk without becoming breathless and weak, you will be the one retrieving our meals, clean laundry, and such, to be brought here. The less droids coming here, the better.” 

They were simple tasks that, if assigned to anyone not a droid, would have been shunned with disdain, but Girl looked and felt relieved, anxious, and determined. She truly was desperate to do anything, it seemed. 

“I can do it now, Sir,” she said, her eagerness somewhat laughable. She only just got off the IV today.

“No, you can’t,” he droned. “You’ve healed some but your recovery will still take at least a month, as per the medics’ estimation. We’ll give it a couple weeks, and see how you’re able to hold up. This ship is very large; you’ll have to walk long distances at times.” 

“I’m feeling much stronger now, Sir,” she insisted. “I can start sooner.”

Now he was becoming annoyed. The whole reason she was this weak in the first place was because she didn’t take care of herself properly before. Granted, he should have noticed and done something about it, but there still lay blame on her shoulders for ignoring her own limits and needs and trying to pretend she wasn’t as ill as she had been. If she didn’t learn to keep herself in check, she was just going to end up right back in the medbay, which helped no one. 

“If you’re so desperate to prove me wrong,” he droned frostily, a vindictiveness rising within him, “-then let’s see.” He stood stiffly, motioning for her to do the same. If she collapsed he would make her pick herself up.

Girl’s face fell, her nervousness rebounding.

“I’m not trying to prove you wrong, Sir,” she said quickly. “I’m just…”

She looked away, lips pressed into a thin line, and then she seemed to deflate, a mournful acceptance in the slope of her shoulders as she stood, her self-loathing reemerging.  
  
“Nevermind, Sir. I’m sorry—” 

Her return to dark thoughts was enough to snap Kylo out of the growing haze of anger.  
  
_Kriffing hell,_ he was doing it again—punishing her for no good reason. 

Kylo gave a gruff sigh at himself, looking away and clenching his fists to keep them still, then turned and pointed at Girl’s chair.

“Sit,” he commanded.

She sat, confusion and worry clouding her face.

He sat back down as well, although the movement jostled the wounds on his stomach and arms, pain flaring up.

With his arms placed carefully on the table, fists creaking, he let the ache subside slightly before trying to move to safer conversation ground.

“What sorts of things did you have to do for your master on Jakku?” he asked gruffly. 

She blinked, her mind seemingly catching up to the sudden change in topic, then spoke. 

“Under Troog’s ownership,” she began warily, “I did the usual sort of work; cleaning, fetching things for him, harvesting water, sending and receiving messages—whatever he needed or wanted. I was also one of his mechanic shop workers. It was part of my duties to fix up droids and the like for him to sell, and keep out thieves.” Her voice lowered, gaze flickering away. “Sometimes I was sent out to find scrap and broken things to bring back too.”

Ah, yes, she was a scavenger as well. He would not say anything about it now; she evidently hated herself enough as it was.

Kylo did not miss the way she decided to only mention the one master, but he would not comment on it this time either. He didn’t much care about who had owned her before. None of that mattered, only how she could serve him with what she could do now.

“Okay,” he voiced with a contemplative nod, making mental notes of it all. “You certainly seemed to know things about droids by what you did with the medidroid’s memory.”

He knew basic droid maintenance and system functions, but the memory thing had been new. What other mechanic tricks did she know? 

Girl looked down sheepishly. 

“Sometimes they hear things they’re not supposed to record,” she mumbled. 

_Sometimes slaves hear things as well,_ he thought. _I wonder what secrets you hold._

“Indeed,” he agreed sardonically out loud. “Which is why I don’t like having them sniffing about.”

“I’m sorry about FX-8 having to be here,” she mumbled further, guilt returning. 

“It’s a small price to pay,” he told her honestly, “-to keep you from ending back in the medbay.”

She did not look satisfied, her expression taking on a pinched look of someone in the midst of self-reproach. Her mind flared with sound again, another semi-intelligible thought slipping through.

_'…so useless…'_

“You’re thinking loudly again,” Kylo mused lowly, eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Girl lamented, face red.

Her embarrassment was amusing, but the fact still remained that he could hear her so clearly in the first place, and that was strange enough to negate any amusement. It had not been like this when she first came aboard. He had heard her calling out, but this was different. Anyone could have heard her back then with how forcefully she’d done it. Now he was picking up nuances to her emotions and thoughts—and pain— that should not be so easily picked up, even for someone like her who had little to no mental blocks in place. 

Her powers did not seem to be any stronger, so what was it? Could their close proximity be affecting how well he was able to interpret the static of her mind? But then he should be able to read his Knights better if that was the case. He’d been with them for years. 

It was something to keep an eye on. 

Girl stared down at her cup as if she was willing it to do something. It wasn’t until Kylo sensed a quieting on her end that he realized what she was trying to do, and he found himself somewhat mystified. Even with only a short ten minute instruction to fall back on, she was doing a decent job trying to calm her mental white noise. 

He continued to observe her, the attention causing her focus to slip somewhat, and just when he was about to see how long she could last under his scrutiny, there was a beep from his commlink by the bed. 

They both turned to look at it, and Kylo turned his hand to call the item. It floated dutifully forward until a sudden piercing pain struck his arm, the muscles cramping and seizing, throwing off his concentration and causing the commlink to clatter to the floor a ways away.

The sharp feeling in his limb made him suck in a hissing breath, and he forced himself to breathe through it, to try and keep it from seeming as bad as it was because Girl was sitting there, wide eyed, and he did not need to show how fallible he actually was still.

So consumed by his pains that he was, Kylo didn’t notice the slave get up to retrieve the fallen commlink until it was placed silently by his cramping hand, and she was back in her seat quietly sipping her broth as if nothing was amiss when he looked up.

The cramp subsided, and he shook out the limb before lifting the beeping commlink up to answer, his voice rough from lingering pains.

“Ren.”

_“Are you well, Master?”_ Tomaxx’s voice called back, slightly wry, as if he knew. 

Kylo shut his eyes, jaw tense against the wave of self-consciousness threatening to rise up. 

“Yes. What is it?” he growled. 

_“Should Cseenan and I continue with our normal morning training or are we convening in the Situation room?”_

Kylo thought for a moment, planning out the day quickly before answering, “We’ll all meet in the Situation room for today, to continue the research. Training will be moved to after luncheon.” Hopefully his body will be able to handle the stress of it without seizing again. 

_“Yes, Master.”_

“You two get started; I will join you soon,” he finished, and the link cut off after another rattling acknowledgment from the Knight.

Girl was obviously used to pretending to be inconspicuous by her nonchalant focus on her cup. Kylo found himself appreciating the attempt to not draw attention to his ailments, or the call. Again he wondered what sorts of secrets she held, no doubt having been a silent, unnoticed shadow in the background on Jakku for who knew how long.   
  
“Finish that,” he commanded with a tip of his head at the broth as her eyes drew up. “We’ll leave when you’re done.”

She had the cup halfway up already when she froze, then lowered it again slightly, brow furrowed.

“Leave?”

“Yes,” he replied, thumb brushing slowly against the commlink in his grasp, watching her expression. “We’ll fetch your datapad and then join the others. I want you to study while we’re working.”

Girl set the cup down, eyeing him with a probing look that would have been uncouth coming from anyone else. Kylo tolerated it, silently allowed her to assess him, and then she corrected herself quickly, lowering her gaze and nodding.

“Yessir.”

As she obeyed, Kylo flexed his hand, wary of the slight tingling rippling up his arm. These effects from his punishment were indeed ‘worse than all times before,’ but he still found himself grateful for the constant reminder. As intriguing as Girl was, he had other duties to prioritize, and since she was no longer at death’s door, he could return his focus to more important matters. 

Allowing her into the Situation room while they researched would be a test, but if she was going to be with them for the foreseeable future they were going to have to learn to trust her, and she was going to need chances to prove she can be trusted. 

It was perhaps a dangerous leap of faith where she was concerned, based on how his attempts to trust her in the past had gone, but there was something deep in the pit of Kylo’s chest that told him she would be good from now on, that she could be relied on. She’d already almost died trying to ‘protect’ him from Wolson’s blaster, and that had been before even promising herself to him.

_Such a confounding creature you are,_ he thought as he silently watched her. _My little slave_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO. Kylo's POV is always so interesting for me to write. Poor guy just needs some TLC.  
> Btw the 'articles' Kylo was reading were taken from actual reports on EU expenditure. I just switched out some of the names and added spacey language 😂
> 
> First week back to work was busy and exhausting, so I barely got any writing done 😭😭😭 I'm still going to try and get one chapter per week done, but if I can't get another chapter finished by tomorrow I might have to give myself a week and a half for chapter 56. (chapter 55 is done already; I just need to do editing and whatnot.) I'll get back into the swing of things soon though. No worries 😁✨
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey and Lord Ren retrieve her datapad from the medbay and meet the new Medical Officer In Charge....  
> Posting date: Sunday, September 13th at 9PM Japan time
> 
> [Sept 20, 2020 edit] I drew a silly sketch of Kylo's dream about Cseenan stealing blankets 😂


	55. A Tingle on the Spine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Lord Ren retrieve her datapad and meet a new character...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Lulu P. on Instagram, who drew a FANTASTIC picture of Rey for Chains!!!! 😍 🥰 😘 Also, **Happy Birthday!!!** 🤩🥳🤩🥳🤩🥳 There's a peek and a link to the picture in the end notes 😁✨❤️ 
> 
> If anyone draws anything for this fic, PLEASE tag me! I'm [veggieheist](http://veggieheist.tumblr.com) on tumblr and [veggieheist_art](https://www.instagram.com/veggieheist_art/?hl=en) on instagram!! I will _absolutely_ pin your fanart onto chapters like a proud mom magnetting her kids' art on the refrigerator 😂😍😁✨❤️🤩 I HIGHLY encourage y'all's art ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

* * *

Rey finished her broth and then waited quietly as Lord Ren read from his datapad. It took only a minute or two before he looked up, noticing her stillness.

“Finished?”

“Yessir.”  
  
Lord Ren pointed to a set of closet doors.

“There are shoes for you in there. Go get them and put them on.”

Rey got up to do as bid, pressing for the doors to slide open, revealing several sets of hanging black tunics and robes. Beneath them were a pair of shiny black boots. Rey hesitantly picked them up, afraid to smudge the pristine leather with her greasy fingertips. They were so new, so fancy. 

“These are for me?” she asked, unable to keep the wonder from her voice.

“Well they’re certainly not mine,” Lord Ren droned, tapping at his device’s screen. 

Rey felt her cheeks color. Right. They were definitely not his size, nor his style. His boots looked like they could crush someone’s skull.

Maybe they have.

She shook the idea from her head and quickly moved back to her seat to put the footwear on, tucking her pant legs into them as neatly as she could the way she’d seen the other officers doing it. Once properly done, she extended her legs to admire the look, wiggling her toes and ankles. The boots were stiff, like the uniform, but she knew in time they’d soften. Still, they fit perfectly, and she couldn’t help the way the corners of her lips turned up just a fraction, her chest light.

_“Good shoes will get you to where you want to go well enough, Missy,” Nybian told her as she exchanged trinkets for a finely crafted pair of desert footwear, a gift for the still-mute slave girl who hadn’t worn any since she was six, “-but the best shoes inspire you to go even further than that. You’ll know when you’ve got the best shoes on your feet, because suddenly you’ll realize there’s nothing that can stop you from keepin’ on movin’ forward. They’re the kind of shoes where you take one step, and never stop.”_

“Are they the right size?” Lord Ren asked, voice subdued, watching her.

“Yessir,” Rey said, face smoothing out and reddening again for being caught ogling herself so outright. She quickly stood, looking at the empty dishware.

“Shall I wash these, Sir?” She asked, glancing up questioningly as he moved to stand as well. 

“No, the droid will take them,” he said, grabbing his commlink and leaving his datapad. “You won’t ever have to wash them. Just take them back to the kitchens. _Eventually,”_ he said pointedly, “when you’re well enough.”

Rey gave a weak nod, still wishing she could do more, but willing to be just a bit more patient to avoid angering her master again. 

Lord Ren picked up the identichip, looked at it silently for a moment, and then tucked it into his belt. Rey felt a slight tingle on her side and frowned.

“I can hold onto that for you, Sir,” she offered. 

“Someday you will have to,” he told her, voice slightly tense. “It’s how you’re going to be able to move around the ship. Many doors will not open without it, and many won’t open anyways because the clearance level is not high enough. But for where you will be tasked to go, you will have access. For now it will stay with me, because you will not leave my side until I can trust you on your own. Understood?”

She nodded earnestly, “Yessir.” 

“Good. Let’s go.”

As they moved through the front room, Rey quickly went over to deftly fold up her blanket on the couch, wary of her master’s dislike of ‘mess,’ and hesitantly looked at the jacket still on the floor. 

“Leave it,” he told her from the door. “I’ll get rid of it later.”

“Yessir,” she answered, wondering why he said it was evidence before, but all too happy to not deal with it anymore.  
  
Rey felt a wave of illicit excitement and apprehension as they exited into the corridor, as if she was doing something she shouldn’t. But she was with her master now. It was okay for her to be outside. And since he had somewhat rescinded his original rule about leaving the rooms, soon she’d be doing it on her own. 

The last time she’d been in this corridor like this had been the day she’d almost died. Her face turned to the right briefly, looking at the path she’d taken and remembering flashes of the waking nightmare that had been Cseenan Ren’s near-fatal attack. 

Shaking the thoughts and lingering unease away, she turned to follow her master to the left. 

Rey tried to look around for any visual tells that might help her remember which door was Lord Ren’s as they walked. There were only four doors on the corridor on both sides, with long enough stretches between them that she assumed the other rooms were large suites as well. Did other people live on this floor? Were any of these rooms the Knights’ quarters? 

Even though Lord Ren had deliberately slowed his pace after glancing at her, Rey was still left panting by the time they got to the lift. She tried to be silent about it, not wanting to bring too much attention to it, but he still noticed, commenting,

“If you start to feel faint or ill, tell me. I’d rather like to avoid you collapsing in the corridor.” He looked down at her. “—Especially if you’re just going to apologize for being carried again.”

Rey felt her face heat up from the memory of the last time they were in a lift together. He’d picked her up and carried her, held her when anyone else would have made her walk, even drugged as she had been. And she’d spoken so crudely to him, too.

Maybe it was her pitiful state at the time, or maybe the realization of his misplaced punishment in the medbay had truly humbled him, but Rey was pretty sure she’d deserved to be dropped on the ground for how disrespectful she’d been. She distinctly recalled his absolute righteous fury when she’d merely told him to _‘stop asking me questions and get out of my head’_ after she first arrived. 

But he’d just quietly let her rudeness go in the lift, without comment.

“Girl.”

Rey blinked, realizing she hadn’t answered yet.

“Yessir,” she mumbled, glancing away. 

They were silent for the rest of the way down, both lost in their respective thoughts. Where Lord Ren’s seemed contemplative and planning, Rey could hardly keep down her excitement. It was making her faintly dizzy, in fact, so she tried to calm herself and breathe. She did not want to stumble or faint. Lord Ren would surely leave her in the medbay or his rooms if she did, and he’d probably never let her live it down if he had to carry her—again. 

The lift opened to a corridor bustling with people, and Rey froze, her excitement souring. She had wondered once upon a time who the crew members were on such a seemingly large ship. The hallways had been nearly empty the other day when Sergeant Wolson had led her away, but now it seemed that the ship was back to whatever constituted as normal business.

Rey’s hands fidgeted together, her heart pounding. She hadn’t been around so many people in a while, and they were all so professional looking, so crisp and neat in their grey and black uniforms and white armor. 

She felt silly now, wearing her outfit. She was an imposter, a charlatan pretending to be one of them. There was no way she’d ever truly fit in among them, even dressed the same as she was. They were going to tell right away she didn’t belong. She probably looked ridiculous. 

So lost in her anxiety was she that Rey almost didn’t notice that she’d been standing still for longer than a moment, paralyzed by the bustling before her. She jolted slightly at Lord Ren’s hand pressing at her mid-back.

“It’s not far,” he told her lowly, encouraging her forward. “Just stay close.”

She nodded silently, lowering her head and stepping forward, her spine warm and her mind grasping at a strange imprint of a memory brought up from the touch, before it evaporated with her nerves. 

She made sure to let Lord Ren overtake her pace slightly, keeping her eyes trained at about knee-level to everyone as she stayed just slightly behind his elbow. 

For the most part everyone in the hallway gave them a very wide berth, although Girl could still feel curious eyes on her. 

Did they know who she was, what she’d done? Did they see her as a traitor the way Lord Cseenan did? Were they surprised to see her still alive?

Did any of them want her dead?

_“We answer to Master Kylo only,”_ Lord Tomaxx had said. She shouldn’t worry about what the officers and soldiers think of her place here. Lord Ren was her master, and that should be all that matters. He seemed to want her here, so she should take comfort in that. But she did move half a step closer to the Dark Lord, as if someone would harm her even with him an arms length away.   
  
When they finally arrived in the medbay, Rey was out of breath and woozy, her lowered gaze more for keeping her balance than out of subservience. She needed to sit, and she knew he told her to say something, but she didn’t want to make Lord Ren wait on her. He had important things he needed to do with the Knights. And she wanted to prove to herself that she was able to push past her ailments. _You’ve had much worse. Stop being sick._

If only it was so easy to make herself better. 

It was strange being back in the medbay. Rey had few memories made in the brief amount of time she’d been conscious here, and almost none of them were good, but even she could tell that the air felt different now. There was a sort of homeliness, and yet a certain anxiety and eeriness. Here was where she had seen Sergeant Wolson last. And now he was dead. 

Because of her. 

An older female medic Rey had not seen before approached them with stiff professional nervousness, her thin face set in a pinched expression that Rey wondered might also be the result of how tightly back her blond hair was pulled into a precise bun beneath her cap. 

“Lord Ren,” she addressed with a curt nod, ignoring Rey completely. “Captain Tel Greev, at your service, sir. Are you here for treatment?”

“No. Is Captain Ithowim on duty?”

The captain shook her head. 

“No, milord, he was reassigned to the night-cycle shift. I’ve been put as the officer-in-charge of day-cycle in his stead. Would you like me to call for him?” 

Rey blinked, surprised the doctor was still around at all. She’d been slightly worried the man had been killed for working with Sergeant Wolson, or for her naming of him to the investigators. It relieved her slightly that he was still alive, although she was perfectly fine not seeing him. For some reason the thought of facing him after she’d gotten his comrade killed made Rey feel faintly ill.

“Hm,” Lord Ren hummed with electronic displeasure. “No. That won’t be necessary. I’m here about a datapad that was left in one of the private rooms.”

Captain Greev’s blond brows furrowed. 

“A datapad, sir?”  
  
“Yes. My slave was using it to study while she was here. Where is it?”

The medic’s eyes finally gave Rey a split-second cursory glance, and immediately the downturning of the captain’s mouth made the girl even more uneasy. Rey had seen that sort of look before. 

“I don’t recall seeing anything, sir,” the captain said, face schooled back to curt professionalism and eyes redirected to the master as if they’d never looked away, “-but I can check our personal effects log. The security officers in charge of the investigation for Sergeant Wolson’s treason came through and took some things as well, so if it isn’t here it might be with them.”

“Very well,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Check the log. We will wait.”  
  
“Right away, milord,” she replied with a snappy nod, marching away on brisk feet. 

Rey rubbed her arms, looking around surreptitiously while she tried to breathe the lightheadedness and unease away. She was curious about this area of the medbay she’d only been afforded a cursory glance of before, the day Wolson had tried to sneak her out. 

It was an open floorplan, with several empty medical beds along one wall, and various cabinets and computers along another. Further back she could see the edge of a recessed space where she knew the bacta tank was, and beyond that were the doors to the private rooms and the shower room. 

A medidroid approached them, it’s photosensor eye scanning as it did.

<Multiple ailments detected> it said. <Are you in need of medical assistance?>

“No,” Lord Ren growled. 

The eye swiveled to Rey.

<Scanners indicate your blood pressure is critically low. Are you sure you do not need medical assistance?>

If Rey wasn’t feeling dizzy before, she was definitely feeling it now as Lord Ren turned to look at her, his silence accusatory and cold. 

“I just need to sit for a minute,” she said in a small voice. 

“Then _sit,”_ he ordered, indicating sharply with his head at a stool near a computer kiosk a few feet away. 

Grateful, Rey did so, gripping her knees and hanging her head. The belt around her middle was digging into her diaphragm, making it slightly more difficult to get air in. 

<Do you have a patient number?> the droid asked.

Rey looked up at Lord Ren, and he wordlessly took out her identichip and let the droid scan it.

<Patient name: Girl. You are not scheduled to be released from the medbay for another five weeks>

For a moment Rey was worried the droid would somehow make her stay, that medics would appear and strap her back down in a bed. But Lord Ren spoke up, agitated.

“Plans have changed. She will be finishing her recovery in my rooms, coming here for outpatient checkups only.”

<It is recommended she continue to receive in-patient treatment, Lord Ren> the droid argued monotonously. <Her blood pressure and nutritional levels must be monitored carefully>

“We have FX-8 monitoring her,” Lord Ren argued back. “And me. If there is a serious issue she’ll be brought back to a medbay.”

The droid probed her again with its eye, its computer brain whirring softly as it computed its thoughts.

<You can be outfitted with a portable blood pressure monitor> it offered. <to ensure proper monitoring protocol is kept>

Lord Ren stood thinking silently, then conceded gruffly.

“Fine.”

<Please wait a moment> it beeped, then rolled away, returning a moment later with a small armband device clutched in its gripper.

<Your shirt can stay on. Please extend your non-dominant arm>

Rey did as told, happy she didn’t have to disrobe, and it deftly secured the armband around her left bicep, and then clipped another smaller band to her wrist. The bracelet beeped loudly and two lights flashed white, indicating it was on and monitoring, then went silent.

<A flashing blue light indicates normal blood pressure. Yellow light indicates high blood pressure. Red light indicates low blood pressure. If blood pressure reaches critical levels, either high or low, an alarm will sound>

“Thank you,” Rey murmured. 

<Your file shows a supplemental broth was delivered to you. Did you drink all of the supplement broth you were given?>

“Yes.”

<Did you have any problems ingesting it?>

“No.”

<Noted. Please alert medical personnel if you experience any gastrointestinal pain or discomfort>

“I will, thank you,” she said, gazing down at the bands curiously. 

The droid turned to the master, who was looking elsewhere. 

<Lord Ren—>

“I’m fine. I do not require anymore assistance outside of the current medicines I have been given.”

<Noted. Is your hearing improved?>

Rey blinked, ears perked at the new information. Had his ears been burnt too? She tried to contain another fresh wave of guilt, not wanting to make her master anymore frustrated with her about it.

“Yes,” Lord Ren answered, the word sounding like it was ground through clenched teeth even through the vocomodulator. He probably didn’t want Rey to know his ears had been damaged. 

She continued to nonchalantly observe her blinking bracelet, frowning at the red light, pretending not to have heard. 

I hear nothing, I see nothing. I am nothing.

<And have the sclera of your eyes—>

“They’re _fine,”_ he snapped. “You’re dismissed.”

Rey watched as the light blinked from Red to yellow as her heart picked up slightly from her master’s ire. _Breathe, just breathe,_ she thought. _Don’t draw attention. Don’t make it worse._

The droid paused only a moment before beeping.

<Yes, Lord Ren. Please alert medical personnel if your symptoms change or worsen>

Lord Ren didn’t reply, merely turned away, moving as if to cross his arms, but stiffly aborted the motion. 

The two of them waited in charged silence for just a minute or two longer before Captain Greev appeared again, datapad in hand. 

Rey breathed a sigh in relief, happy that retrieving it wouldn’t become a bigger problem involving the investigators. 

“I apologize for the wait, milord,” the officer said as she approached. “Is this the datapad you were looking for?” She held it out.

Lord Ren’s arm twitched as if to move to take it, but suddenly his whole body went stiff, the air growing colder, and Rey could tell by the tingle between her shoulder blades that he was having another small spasm, one that seemed to be affecting his arms.

Quickly, so as to seem like it was her duty to accept things for her master, Rey stood and moved to take it, wanting to spare him the awkwardness that would have been his standing there not able to because of his pains.

The captain retracted the datapad away from her with a twisted mouth, eyes indignant, and Rey was quick to lie,

“Lord Ren said the datapad is my responsibility, ma’am. I’m to hold onto it.”

The medic eyed her skeptically for a beat and then handed the device over with a glance at the rigid master.

“I’m surprised the slave can read, coming from Jakku.”

Rey ducked her head to hide her shame-faced scowl. 

Lord Ren tensed again, and this time it was out of anger rather than pain.

“She’s far more proficient in things than any of you know, and you would do well to remember that.”

Rey stopped herself from looking at her master in shock from the strength of his words. It wasn’t a lie; he actually seemed to believe it. 

He continued icily, “I will not tolerate any of my group being insulted, no matter their station. Ithowim was reminded many times of the consequences of such a thing. Are you and I going to have problems as well?”

Rey felt her heart pick up, not wanting to be the cause of anymore fuss between the medics and her master. She wanted to tell him not to bother defending her; she was used to such insults. But she pressed her lips shut.

The captain’s pale face tightened.

“No, milord. I apologize for my indiscretion.”

“Good.”

His cramp no longer prickling on Rey’s spine, Lord Ren held out his hand towards the slave and—just managing to keep herself from flinching— she dutifully passed him the datapad. 

He turned it on, glancing through it quickly. 

“Everything appears to be in order,” he said in a clipped tone, handing the datapad back to Rey and looking up. “I assume you’ve been reassigned to take on Girl’s care?”

A muscle twitched in the woman’s jaw, her back straightening slightly.

“You mean the slave?”

“Unless there’s another patient here with that name,” Lord Ren droned. 

Her lips thinned before replying,

“All of Captain Ithowim’s active cases have been transferred to me, milord, which includes the slave. Do you require another ranking officer room for her, or would a general medcot be sufficient for her care?” 

The way she said ‘ranking officer room’ made Rey feel guilty again for using up the resources she already had. She didn’t deserve to be in a ranking officer room. She didn’t even deserve a general cot. She should just be tended to on the stool from now on. On the floor, even.

“Neither,” Lord Ren corrected her. “She’s staying in my rooms for the rest of her recovery. After everything that’s happened, I think it’s better for all parties involved.”

The captain’s cold gaze flickered to Rey again, a flash of contempt that disappeared before it could give away too much. She obviously was one of the ones who thought Rey was a traitor, but it was no doubt also influenced by the fact that the medic was most likely of the sort that did not take well with slaves at all. 

Rey always tried to avoid people like that on Jakku. They often went out of their way to elevate themselves by punching down on servants. Suddenly Rey wished Captain Ithowim hadn’t been moved. The man was brusque, but he didn’t outright detest Rey like this. 

Captain Greev gave a dead smile, perhaps trying to look appealing and nonthreatening. The look of it reminded her of Vins so much that Rey shuddered, averting her eyes, her stomach clenching. 

“I understand, milord,” the medic said with steely assurance. “She will receive the care she deserves, no matter where she’s placed on the ship.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Captain,” Lord Ren rumbled darkly. 

She gave a short nod. “Yessir. For now she should come by once a day for us to check on her progress.”

“We’ll return tomorrow, then.”

“Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with, milord? Have your injuries healed?”

“Well enough,” he replied tensely, followed by a terse, “I don’t have time for these questions. If there’s nothing else important, we’ll be taking our leave.”

“Of course, milord,” she nodded, “We’ll comm or send a medidroid for anything else.”

“Good,” he said, turning away. 

Rey glanced at the Captain before following him, her heart sinking at the open disdain on the woman’s face. She had a feeling that check-ups were going to be her least favorite part of the day. 

_Just more reason to heal quickly_ , Rey thought. _The less I have to see Captain Greev, the better._  
  
Back out in the corridor, Rey hurried to keep up with Lord Ren’s pace. He was upset, his fists tight at his sides, his gait more rigid than usual from muscles taut. Rey witnessed people actually turning down opposite directions as they laid eyes upon him, and she wondered how many times he’d been in a mood and outright attacked people who got caught in his warpath.

It took less time to get back to the lift, but Rey was gasping when they finally did, leaning against the wall when the door finally closed. 

“You’re becoming quite the prolific little storyteller,” he spat, his distaste palpable.

Rey winced at the tone, then took a few deep breaths before answering.

“Lord Tomaxx told me we sometimes have to lie to protect each other.” 

He was silent for a moment as he turned to watch her, the tension easing a fraction from his stance.

“Did he now.”

Rey dared to look back at his dark visor.

“Yessir.”  
  
He remained quiet again for a long moment while Rey breathed.

“Why did you feel I needed protecting in the first place?” He asked, curiosity bleeding through the anger. “What prompted you to do such a thing?”

Rey gave a small shrug, eyes downcast, acutely careful of upsetting his ego further, but also not sure if she’d be able to describe it without sounding idiotic. 

_‘There was a tingle on my spine, and I thought you might not want to look stupid in front of the medic.’_

“I just had a feeling, Sir,” she mumbled instead.

“What do you mean, you had a feeling?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t know how to explain it, Sir. It was just…something here.” She reached around to press her fingers on her vertebrae as close to between her shoulder blades as she could go, then lowered her arm, embarrassed. 

“I’m not sure though,” she mumbled, suddenly doubting if she had been accurate in her split-second assessment of Lord Ren’s situation. “I’m sorry if it was wrong.”

The lift stopped and opened, but he did not move to exit. The length of his stare directed at her dragged on for what felt like forever, the weight of it making her squirm, until he silently turned away.

“Whether you actually felt something or merely think you felt something, do not assume you have to protect me, Girl,” he murmured sourly. “Focus on your own recovery.” And then he stepped out, going left. 

Rey felt a small stab of something like rejection in her breast, and nodded silently to herself in somber acceptance. Of course she was not needed for protection. She was practically useless in that regard, especially compared to the deadly warrior that was her master. He was clearly an adult capable of dealing with situations like that on his own. She was so stupid to think otherwise. 

In spite of the rigidity still evident in his frame, his pace was slower now, the silver lines of his mask glinting in the cold light as he glanced to check that she was following. 

Rey fixed her gaze back down as she shadowed him, hugging the datapad to her chest as a shield when she noticed that most of the officers around them seemed to be of a much higher rank and degree than those from the levels below. Aside from the slight change in their uniforms, their eyes were cold, calculating, and judgmental as she passed them. No doubt they knew she’d been involved with the desertion. No doubt they probably wanted her gone. 

Soon the corridor became colder, and with it came the lack of human life forms. The inky, gritty darkness overlaying it all told her what to expect behind a door that looked thick enough to withstand a laser canon. Lord Ren paused beside the keypad, his profile illuminated as he addressed her.

“You will sit quietly in the corner and study,” he told her, voice hard with command. “The things we are working on in this room are secret from even the other high command of this ship, so when I say ‘the contents of this room, stay in this room’, know that I would kill everyone on board to protect the integrity of the information here.”

Even if she couldn’t Feel that he was being one-hundred percent serious, Rey would not have doubted him. And she knew that he would probably kill her too if he thought she was leaking secrets. 

This was a _massive_ test in trust. Rey was both honored and intimidated by the gravity of this new privilege. 

Lord Ren continued, leaning down slightly into her space.

“You will not speak unless spoken to, you will not move unless directed, and you will not otherwise make a presence of yourself. Understood?”

Rey nodded gravely. “Yessir.”

He waited until her eyes were lowered again to type in the code for the massive door. It opened with a deep hum, and a large room bisected with a giant holotable littered with datapads and holochrons came into view. The pristine holos floating above said table drew her wide gaze seconds before she noticed the two Knights of Ren who sat at interval around it.

They both looked up as Rey entered after her master, Cseenan Ren’s amber eyes going dark, teeth bared in a snarl.

“What the fuck is _she_ doing here?” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > [ ](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFCxC6lK4Zm/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)  
> [ View this post on Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFCxC6lK4Zm/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)  
> [](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFCxC6lK4Zm/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)  
> [A post shared by Lulu .P🦋 (@lulutina_art)](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFCxC6lK4Zm/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading)
> 
>   
> You can see the full image, as well as the wonderful sketch, on her Instagram! Check out her other art too. She's got a great style! 🤩
> 
> Thank you again for such a lovely drawing!! 😍😁✨❤️🤩
> 
> Speaking of art,  
> I'm going to be redrawing/adding drawings to previous chapters over time, and I'm not really sure if y'all get notifications whenever I make edits to already posted chapters, but if you do get an email or whatever about an update on a date/time that I did not specify as the next chapter posting date/time, then just assume it's me messing around with adding images to older posts. Unfortunately I've not written ahead enough to post a surprise chapter in the middle of the week again anytime soon 😭 Work is taking a lot of my time now. 
> 
> Next chapter: Kylo gets the Knights on task, but at training he finds he might not be as healed as he thinks he is....  
> Posting date: Sunday, September 20th 9PM Japan Time


	56. The Beep Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and the Knights get some work done, but training doesn't turn out quite as well....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings :D 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_“What the fuck is **she** doing here?”_

Kylo’s shoulders stiffened at Cseenan’s snarl while Girl froze entirely, her wide eyes locked onto the Barabel like a prey judging the potential threat of a predator. The door slid shut, the heavy bolts locking the room into stifling animosity.

“She’s here to sit in the corner _silently_ and _study,”_ Kylo told him tersely, then gestured at the girl to keep moving, pointing to a chair on the far end of the table for her to take. 

Cseenan was not willing to let it go, however, and stood with bristling scales.

“Master, you know what we are doing here. If she’s a spy, she could alert the enemy of our plans.”

Kylo shook his head.

“We’ve already established she’s not a spy. And if she was, she’d be an exceptionally bad one for almost getting herself killed at least twice by now.”

“I’m not a spy,” Girl said weakly where she pulled the chair away. “I don’t even—“

“ _Shut up_ ,” Cseenan barked, teeth snapping. “We know you’re hiding something in that little head of yours.”

Girl froze again, the blood draining from her face followed by a shrill alarm from her wrist, the bracelet blinking red. 

Kylo turned to the table sharply. 

“We don’t have time for this. Sit down and work.”

Then he turned to Girl, taking two long strides to where she stood with her chest heaving. 

“Lord Ren, I’m not—“

“Later,” he snapped, taking hold of her flinching shoulders to push her down into the chair, then Force-pushing it the rest of the way into the corner, her limbs flailing for balance and her body stiffened by the jarring effect of her seat hitting the corner slightly harder than Kylo had intended.

Kylo turned back to Cseenan.

“What have you managed to get done?”

“Master, she’s—“

Kylo’s temper nearly broke, fueled by the embarrassment of being ‘saved’ by Girl in the medbay, mixed with the confusion and discomfiture of the realization she was sensing his pains, on top of the twinges and spasms still affecting his body that were getting worse the more he moved around. But he managed to only just keep himself from exploding, his robotic voice crackling with the shakiness of his restraint:

“Cseenan Ren. If you do not want _this-”_ he pointed to his chest, “-to be _your_ fates as well, then quit worrying about the slave and help me finish this so we can _find the map_.”

There was a heavy pause weighed down by their memories of what Kylo had looked like coming off the shuttle, bloodied and burned.

“We would gladly have taken our fair share of Supreme Leader’s anger, Master,” Tomaxx said in a low voice, then looked at the Barabel. “But we will work hard to make sure such a thing will not need to be done in the future.”

The Knight growled, dark eyes flickering between Kylo, Tomaxx, and where Girl was muffling the alarmed bracelet in her lap with her head bowed and eyes closed. His gaze lingered there for a moment too long before blinking and looking down at the mess of information before him. After a long, drawstring-tight moment, he spoke, voice barely above a guttural tone, the words ground out between his sharp teeth.

“We have organized four possible places of interest on…” his eyes flashed towards Girl again, “…the planet.”

Kylo nodded curtly, stepping closer to the table, his mind already compartmentalizing the slave now that the alarm had quieted. She had her orders; he did not need to repeat himself. From now he would focus on the task at hand.

“Good. Tomaxx, what do you need to get done for us to be able to start groundwork, and realistically how long will it take?”

The Chiss was also hesitant to speak for a moment, his posture rigid. Kylo understood their trepidation, but at this point their paranoia was merely that: unfounded fears. Girl had shown herself to be loyal to him, and he had made his point known to her that this mission was more important than the lives of every man and woman aboard the ship. He knew she would not make the mistake of betraying him twice. 

Finally Tomaxx spoke,

“If you’re not going to insist we try tomorrow,” he said, voice hushed, “I can have the necessary identifications and landing permits done by day after at the earliest. We could try to establish a route without them, but we all know it’s easier to come and go with proper ID, fabricated as it may be.”

“Right,” Kylo mumbled. “As much as I want to get going as soon as possible, I don’t want to make anymore mistakes either. We need to be precise. Do you have any other leads from your contacts near Donadus?”

“There are some ship routes it could have been taken on,” Tomaxx said, bringing up a holo. “And one such route does go near the target. Once we establish a base of operations on-world, we can begin rooting for any hidden factions that could betray their headquarters, or at least a base. If one such base does exist, the mark may find its way there eventually, seeking to be found.”

The amount of secret-speak the Knight was using in order to cover up any key words was annoying, but Kylo reasoned that at least Tomaxx was saying anything at all. If he and Cseenan were going to try referring to everything in code, then he would let them. Eventually when Girl was found to be nothing more than a furniture piece in the room, they’d tire of it and switch back to speaking freely. 

Kylo snuck a glance at her while his Knights continued planning and discussing in low tones. She was sitting stiffly, intently staring down at the datapad in her hands, looking faintly ill but not bad enough to be overtly concerned about. 

He turned back to the table, pulling a chair to sit and sift through the mounting research. They had gotten a lot done before, so it was really just refining things down even more for precision and contingency. 

Soon they would be going to Phu to search for the Resistance, and Kylo knew that whatever happens there, whether they root out the secret base or find the droid, he would be one step closer to exacting his revenge on his uncle, and fulfilling his destiny. 

Like a building a speeder bolt by bolt, they would piece together a plan and execute it. And with all of the power and deadly swiftness of the Dark Side and the Way of Ren, nothing would stop them.   


* * *

They worked, speaking in quiet tones for the most part, a tenseness crackling in the air. More than once Cseenan was caught staring intently at Girl, and although Kylo was not happy about it, he was loathe to make it into too large a thing when they were finally getting work done. He would see how his body faired in training later, and determine if dueling Cseenan would be doable for tomorrow. 

The sooner they did it, the better. Theoretically it should have been the first thing on the docket this morning, but he wanted more time for the bacta to seep into his wounds. He knew Cseenan wouldn’t kill him in a fight, but he still did not want to be too indisposed that he would lose easily, or at all.

Several hours of this steady organizing and consolidating later, they knew where they were going and what to look for. Tomorrow they would finish planning who would go where, what time to rendezvous, and rehash codes for commlink communication. The day after that they would go. 

Girl would remain on the ship, a decision he had already come to although it made him incredibly frustrated to think of doing so. It was his absence from her that had caused so much trouble to happen in the first place; he did not want to trigger another chain of events by leaving her alone in his rooms for a prolonged period of time again. 

But, he could not leave his Knights to do this work alone, and they could not bring her. She was too ill still, and would only be a distraction. 

He would keep her in his rooms again, only allowing medidroids access, and all would be _fine._ She had her datapad and her studies to keep her occupied, and he would find something else on it for her to do if it seemed like she was going to need it. Then they would come back and he would figure out what to do from there.

It was a plan, and plans were good. Plans gave him focus and control. 

The chrono told him it was nearly time for luncheon, so Kylo told his Knights to finish up, and then turned to Girl. She had shifted in her seat at some point so that one leg was folded beneath her, her elbow on an armrest, fist pressed against her leaning cheek. She was frowning slightly, eyes drooping as she read the datapad in her lap. 

Kylo wondered if it was the First Order rules or the Way of Ren that was boring her. 

After only a moment she blinked rapidly, wakefulness tensing her muscles as she looked up and caught his watching gaze. He approached and she put her leg down, sitting upright, alert. There was a red imprint of her fist on her cheek that marred her otherwise crisp image.  
  
Kylo stopped a few feet away.

“We’re finished in here for today,” he told her. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, getting to her feet, wincing at the bracelet flashing red, covering it with her other hand is if it would make her low blood pressure disappear too. 

She stumbled back down to sitting, breathing deeply, apologizing softly, but after thirty seconds the light turned blue and she much more slowly stood back up. 

“It’s fine,” he murmured at her lowered head and repeated apology. “C’mon.”

He headed for the door, telling his Knights in passing to meet him in the training room after luncheon, receiving nods and “Yes, Master” in return before exiting to the corridor, Girl a silent shadow behind him.

As they stood in the lift, he was reminded again of what she’d said about having ‘a feeling’ in regards to his spasm in the medbay earlier. She had also looked up at him once or twice in the Situation room as he sat trying to breathe through another cramp or flash of pain while he read. If the Knights had sensed anything, they’d kept quiet and ignored it. That she could sense it even after he had specifically tried closing himself off as much as possible, was strange. 

She was growing into her powers, that much was evident, although some of the effects were _not_ normal. Not even from his time at the Jedi Temple could he remember any of the new recruits being so attuned to his or anyone else’s pains. Not even his own uncle, and Supreme Leader had found evidence the Jedi had been slithering about Kylo’s mind during the apprenticeship. 

_She was obviously suppressing her abilities for years on Jukku_ , he reasoned. _Perhaps the new freedom is causing such anomalies to occur. They would probably settle in time._

They’d definitely disappear once she was cut off from the Force.

Kylo closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. He would direct her to do so when he got back. No doubt Snoke would ask about it when he reported his mission, and he knew he would not be able to hold off on it for long. Not if he didn’t want another visit to the _Supremacy._

It was a waste of potential, but he had his orders. 

Kylo opened his eyes as the lift stopped, delegating such thoughts to another part of his mind to deal with later. He had other priorities now.

He tried to remember to slow his step again as they headed to his rooms, but even with the slower pace Girl was visibly out of breath when they finally got inside. 

“Go sit,” he told her, pointing to the couch as he moved to his bedroom. A kitchen droid had already delivered a tray to his table, but there was no sign of anything for Girl. 

He pulled out his commlink, pinging the medbay. Almost immediately an answer came.

_“This is Sergeant Alpeq in Medbay Delta two, what is your FO code and issue?”_

Requiring an FO code was new. They must be stepping up security. 

“KR01. I need an update about—“  
  
The door to the rooms beeped, and a medidroid rolled in.

“—nevermind,” Kylo grumbled, cutting off the link and turning to make sure it had something for Girl, before addressing her. 

“You’ll be here for the rest of the afternoon, so take your time with drinking whatever they gave you.”

He could see some minor disappointment in the downturn of her mouth, but she nodded with a quiet, “Yessir,” accepting the cup of liquid dietary substance from the droid with a small thanks.

Satisfied, Kylo stepped back into his bedroom, letting the door shut soundly, locking it for good measure before taking off his helmet. 

He took a deep breath of unfiltered air, smoothed back his dark hair, and then set his mask down to dig into the luncheon meal. He scrolled through articles and news stories on his datapad, Girl’s perturbed mind buzzing away in the peripheries of his own like background noise from an unintelligible holo vid as he did. 

_Soon there would be silence again_ , he told himself with a scowl, and focused his barriers to try and push her out. _Not soon enough._

* * *

Kylo took more time eating this meal than he had with breakfast, making sure to drink all of the water in the carafe. He would need the hydration for training. He had a suspicion his spasms and cramps were from the fever offsetting his electrolytes, so he begrudgingly took a supplement from his sparse medicine stores as well, gritting his teeth against the sting of the needle gun against his arm. 

Meal finished, sleeve rolled back down and helmet donned, Kylo opened the door and walked into the adjacent room. Girl was sat on the couch still, scowling at the medidroid with the tip of a finger in her mouth. 

<—levels are still too low. We will have to supplement your diet accordingly, otherwise intravenous methods may have to be utilized again.>

“What’s too low?” Kylo asked as he approached, noting Girl had taken off her boots to sit cross-legged, her half-empty cup on the floor beside the footwear. She pulled her finger out to peer down at the small red pinprick on the pad.

<her iron levels, sir. She is anemic>

Girl looked like she had something grumbly to say to that but kept her words to herself, only the annoyed static of her noisy mind giving her away.   
  
Kylo frowned.

“She was on intravenous fluids for days. Shouldn’t that have fixed her nutrition levels?”

<Yes, her levels were considered stable enough to remove the IV, sir. But she has become unbalanced again>

“In _five hours?_ ” He asked, taken aback.

<yes sir>

He looked down at the girl, who glanced between him and the droid with a worried crease between her brows. 

“I’m not doing it on purpose, Sir.”  
“Of course not,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s probably something with your metabolism. Whatever it is, it’s partly to blame for you nearly starving to death in a week as well, if the doctor’s hypothesis is anything to go by.”

She looked up, confused.

“My metabolism?”

“Perhaps, it could be something else. It’s inconclusive, but you’re probably going to need extra care to get you back up to normal health. Your body is apparently actively working against all attempts to heal you.” 

It was so strange. Shouldn’t her metabolism be slow, to make up for the lack of food she’d suffered all her life? 

Girl deflated slightly, glaring down at her lap as her thoughts soured. 

_‘…can’t even heal…’_

“Stop berating yourself,” Kylo growled. “You’ll give us all a headache.”

It was the very wrong thing to say by the way she ducked her head, shoulders coming up and shame flaring to life around her.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she quietly said. 

Now it was Kylo’s turn to self-berate, although his was far more justified. 

_You fucking idiot. She doesn’t know how to control her broadcasting._

She was anxious about something again, perhaps afraid he would punish her for her loud thoughts, her hands gripped tightly in her lap. She quickly released them to bunch into fists after glancing up nervously. 

Kylo sighed, his voice a strained calm as he tried to reign in his vexation while simultaneously project an air of being unbothered. 

“We’ll figure out what to do eventually about your metabolism, Girl. Don’t fret too much or you’ll just make it worse.”

He crouched to bring his line of sight more on level with her downturned face.

“The medics gave you six weeks for in-patient recovery, which means you probably won’t be back to perfect health for another two months or so.” He picked up her cup and, after he commandingly offered it, she took it from his hand. “We have time to figure it out.”

She nodded quietly, perturbed as she frowned down at the reddish liquid. Her eyes followed him as he stood, the line of her brow changing into worry.

“How are _you_ feeling, Sir?”

“You already asked me that this morning, and I already told you I’m fine,” he droned, irritated by so many people questioning his health in half a day’s time. _Especially_ people who had no right to be pointing out his ailments, being even worse off than himself still after several weeks of intense medical intervention. 

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

He also did not like the idea that Girl was somehow attuned to his injuries. He did not like that any one person could tell he was in pain at any given time. It made him feel weak, like he had no mental walls anymore, no mental protection. 

How the kriff was she getting past his mind barriers? Perhaps he was more injured by what Snoke did than he thought. He would have to ask Tomaxx to check. If anyone could sense something leaking from Kylo’s psyche, it would be the Chiss.

Kylo scrolled through the droid’s readout holo of her bloodwork and then glanced at her, grumbling,

“The fact that you’re probably asking out of some masochistic attempt to make yourself feel guilty for my injuries again is also _very_ annoying.”

She looked ready to defend herself, but blinked in confusion instead. 

“Masochistic?”

Kylo tilted his head towards her. “Someone who enjoys pain.”

She looked up at him, alarmed. 

“I don’t enjoy pain.”

Kylo crossed his arms, turning to face her fully. “Says the girl who was asking me to punish her this morning.”

“I didn’t ask because I _enjoy pain_ , Sir,” she insisted vehemently, almost angrily. “I asked because it’s the right thing to do.”

Kylo felt his hackles rising, the air flush with indignation and potential temper. 

“And so you think I’ve made the _wrong_ decision to not punish you? Am I a fool for giving you an outlet to speak to me freely, only for you to throw it back in my face, ungrateful?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. 

“I—n-no, Sir, that’s not—“

_“Stop_ talking.”

Her teeth clicked as she shut her mouth, wary tension hardening her posture and her thoughts. She was prepared to flinch, prepared to be hurt. 

Kylo took in a breath, almost shaking with restraint, at war with himself for a long moment wherein he almost lashed out just to prove how wrong _she_ was for wanting any sort of punishment he was capable of doling out. He could imagine it, the agony ripping through her small body, a silent scream caught in her throat, his snarl of _Is this what you wanted?_

Instead, he slowly let out the breath, and pointed, voice hoarse even to his own ears, 

“Drink that and study. I’ll be back by dinner to see how far you’ve gotten.”

She nodded quickly, eyes watching him the same way she’d watched Cseenan earlier, wide and cautious, as if he would swipe out at her without warning. 

“Yessir.”

“Good,” he grumbled, turning to go. He stopped near the door, though, turning back stiffly to say,

“And stop _fretting.”_

He continued out to the corridor without waiting for a reply, his heavy footsteps taking him out of the haze of her loud thoughts and emotions to the blessedly silent lift, the small space filling instead with his own frigid grousing as it descended. 

* * *

  
The durasteel floors of the training room gleamed beneath the cold lights, the whiteness of the walls in stark contrast to the dark figures standing near the equipment tables. 

Kylo took his helmet off as he approached his Knights, glad to see Cseenan had already dressed down to just his trousers and a ragged shirt, evidently more than ready to be put to task, but frowning at Tomaxx still fully wardrobed, mask and all.

Normally Kylo himself would try to train in his full ensemble as much as possible to prepare himself for battle, but he was wary of exacerbating his injuries, so he planned to remove his long robes and secure his belt over his surcoat instead. It was unusual for Tomaxx to be so fully covered like this here.

“Are you planning on going the whole session in full regalia, Tomaxx,” Kylo said as he placed his mask down and began to disrobe. “Or will you decide when it gets too stifling?”

The silver lined face turned to him.

“I wasn’t sure if the slave would be joining us.”

Kylo paused. 

“You think I’d bring her to _training?”_ He glanced at Cseenan. “With _him_ primed for fighting, completely unmuzzled?”

The Barabel tensed, eyes flashing, and then stiffly wandered off to begin stretching, grumbling beneath his breath.

Tomaxx removed his helmet. 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d bring her to the Situation Room so soon either, Master.”

Kylo shook his head, pulling the long robes off.

“She needs to learn what being my servant entails, which includes understanding the gravity of what we are doing. If she so much as falls a hair out of line, the consequences will be _severe,_ believe you me.”

“As they should be,” the Chiss murmured, beginning to remove his own robes and surcoat, leaving him down to his trousers, high-necked undershirt, and wrist guards. His crimson eyes scanned Kylo calculatingly.

“Will you be fully participating today, Master?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you should be exerting yourself?”

“My wounds are practically superficial now,” Kylo told him dryly as he dropped his neatly folded robes onto a bench seat. “I do not enjoy the idea of my strength withering because I was too afraid to exercise. I refuse to be a liability on Phu.”

The Chiss inclined his head in concession but did not say anything.

“I’m sick-tired of saber practice,” Cseenan growled from his spot, his tail twitching. “I want to fight with _fists.”_ He was bristling slightly, the agitated energy buzzing around him near-palpable. 

“You and Tomaxx can practice sparring,” Kylo told him. “But first, a beep test.”

At that, the Barabel’s countenance changed. He gave a toothy hiss of glee, his yellow eyes peering at Tomaxx in dark amusement. 

“Blue’s favorite.”

“I will beat you this time, Cseenan,” the Chiss mumbled with a challenging, but not altogether serious, glare. 

“Last I saw, you still got the same legs as before’s time.”

“Your underestimating me is only going to make my victory ever more enjoyable.”

“Big talk for a tiny man.”

Tomaxx paused in his own stretching, standing straight and frowning at the other Knight. 

“I’m taller than you.”

The Barabel stood and walked up, quipping, “You got no muscle, Blue,” and playfully poked at his abdomen with a knuckle. Tomaxx easily pushed the clawed hand away, which prompted Cseenan to try with the other hand. The Chiss had the other Knight locked in a grip and flipped over his leg to land soundly on the durasteel floor before Cseenan could blink. 

“I’m also better at close combat than you,” Tomaxx told the prone Knight as he stood over him, a small smirk lifting the corner of his blue lips.

Cseenan’s raspy, barking laugh echoed in the room as he bounced back to his feet, his eyes dark with the prospect of a fight, his claws clicking rhythmically at his sides. 

Kylo watched all of this with veiled amusement as he stretched—mindful of the tugging scabs and lesions across his skin— glad to see his apprentices in better spirits than the last time they were in the training room, when he’d finally accepted Cseenan’s challenge only to be interrupted by the explosion. 

_Perhaps if things go well enough we can duel today_ , he thought as he stood, shaking out his limbs. He moved to activate and program a droid for the beep test, and then directed his attention back to the Knights, who were amidst a scuffle. 

Cseenan was trying to grapple Tomaxx, but the Chiss was more agile and skilled at maneuvering the bulkier Barabel around, flipping him once more with such ease that it almost seemed like Cseenan was lighter than his two-hundred and fifty-odd pounds. 

Tomaxx had showed Kylo some of the moves he knew, but had kept the majority of them to himself, claiming Chiss secrecy. 

_“You are going to ask me why I know some of the moves I know if you make me reveal all of them,”_ he once told Kylo. _“And that would require me to talk of my Dead Self.”_

And even though he had almost said _fuck it, what does that even mean, just show me_ , Kylo had dropped it, never forcing the Knight to demonstrate to him anything he would not freely teach. Dead-Self talk was never to be broached, for anything. 

Some of the moves were truly impressive, though. 

“Alright,” Kylo droned, pushing between the two males. “Enough of that for now. Get ready.”

Cseenan snapped his teeth in jaunty challenge at the Chiss as they followed after Kylo to the far end of the room. Kylo gave him a not-so-serious warning look that normally would have just made the Barabel even more mischievous. But this time some of the glee evaporated from the Barabel’s toothy grin instead, his scaly head turning away sharply. 

Not _quite_ back to normal yet. But soon, very soon, they would be.

The beep test was a running test, and rather simple in concept: they were to run from one side of the room to the other and try to touch the wall in time with a loud beep from the droid. Over time the beeps would increase in rhythm, forcing the runners to increase their running speed lest they fail to touch the wall in time, at which point they would be shot at with a stun blast. 

Cseenan had the most consistently best endurance out of them, rarely falling behind, and usually ending up the last one standing. Tomaxx usually gave his best, but where he was strong in the Force and in combat, his running endurance left much to be desired, and he often ended up fighting off multiple blasts before being felled by a lucky shot. Kylo was customarily either the last one running, or tied with the Barabel. Today would be no different, unless Tomaxx had somehow increased his running endurance in secret. 

Kylo motioned to the droid, which began a countdown. 

“If you can last longer than an hour without getting shot, Blue,” the Barabel sneered, “I’ll gnaw my own tail.”

“That’s not exactly the enticement to succeed that you think it is, Cseenan,” Tomaxx murmured, eliciting another sharp laugh.

“If Tomaxx can last longer than an hour,” Kylo said, “he’ll only have to do half of the conditioning exercises I have planned after this.”

The Knight shared a glance, his red eyes bright. 

“Now _that’s_ a motivator.”

Cseenan snorted as Kylo gave the ghost of a smirk, but then the droid’s countdown ended with a shrill tone, and the three warriors were off. 

* * *

Everything seemed fine, at first. 

Running felt good. Kylo’s blood rushed from his pounding heart, clearing out the rest of the lingering traces of sickness fog on his mind and reminding him of the power he had in his legs. Sweat soaked his clothes and streamed down his face far quicker than usual, but he paid it no mind. This was a normal training day, just like all the others. 

Until it wasn’t. 

They ran, the speed not quite a sprint, but not a jog, either. It had been about forty-five minutes so far, not even halfway through their usual time, and Kylo felt a small tightening in his lower back right before the tendons near his hip seized in a cramp, making him arch and almost trip. He grit his teeth through it, his feet stumbling for just a step before he caught himself. 

It was just enough to put him behind half a second, and as the beep sounded with him still two steps from the wall, the droid let off a stun blast. 

He managed to stop and redirect it, his legs and arms pistoning to get back up in line with his Knights. And then a second spasm cramped the length of his femur. 

Cseenan and Tomaxx looked back at him as he nearly collapsed to a knee, a falter in their step prompting him to bark at them to keep going. 

The beep sounded, another blast rocketed towards him, and he cast it aside again. 

He got back to his feet and attempted to catch up again, but he was half-room-length away, meaning he would have to go through another blast or two before completely catching up to his Knights, if he wasn’t hindered again. 

He hoped the extra strain would somehow flush the cramps from his limbs the same way his brain fatigue had been, but it only made it worse. 

The third blast came at him just as another spasm froze up his right arm, which was enough to crack his concentration, allowing the stun plasma to hit its mark,

right on his chest wound. 

The pain was excruciating, shooting up the length of his body, exploding stars behind his eyes, bringing forth from the recesses of his mind a dark voice dripping with malice, filling him with agony and fear.

Kylo cracked open his eyes, blinking against the bright lights on the ceiling. He was on his back on the floor, body twitching, his ears ringing slightly but still able to catch the sound of his Knights running. 

_Good. Keep doing the test, don’t sink to my weakness—_

“Master!” 

Cseenan’s scaly face entered Kylo’s vision, quickly followed by Tomaxx. They were panting, brows furrowed and eyes searching. 

“Don’t stop,” Kylo choked out. “Keep going. I’ll be fine.”

“The _fuck_ you will,” Cseenan snapped, waving a clawed hand at the droid with a snarl, shutting it down.

“Cseenan Ren,” Kylo growled, trying to push himself up. “That was completely uncalled for. I did not give you permission to stop.”

“You think I give a shit?”

_“Cseenan,”_ Tomaxx hissed in warning just as Kylo’s hand came up with his righteous indignation, hand clawed to use the Force to close the Barabel’s throat and keep him quiet, but it lasted barely a second before Cseenan was batting his hand away and physically grabbing Kylo’s own throat, slamming him back down to the floor. 

His grip was tight, his claws pricking at Kylo’s nape, his teeth snapping inches from his nose, snarling,

“This is _not normal_.” 

Kylo grabbed his arm at the elbow joint, pushing down forcefully to cause it to crook, allowing him to push Cseenan tail over head with his foot and dislodge the hand from his throat, and the two of them scrambled to crouching form, Kylo ready to call his saber from the table and cut off the hand that had _dared threaten him._

The Barabel was snarling and snapping, eyes black, scales bristling, but he was moving away, his nostrils huffing in the way he subconsciously did during sparring at times when his hindbrain was trying to signal that he was not trying to _actually_ fight. 

Kylo almost wanted to ignore it and attack him anyways with the full brunt of his fury, the edges of his vision seeing red as his anger billowed up within him to cover up the humiliation souring his stomach.

“Enough of this,” Tomaxx panted, sweat glistening on his mussed hair as he looked between the two. “Either duel or get over it.”

Cseenan pointed a claw, voice more guttural growl than anything, “He can’t even run. No fair duel now like this.”

“You do not get to tell me when I am in good health to fight, Cseenan Ren,” Kylo bit out, holding himself taut to cover up the shakes in his limbs. “I am ready to fight at all times, with or without wounds. The Dark side of the Force is strong with me in any case.”

The Knight rose to his feet, still crouched slightly, tail swishing, his feet stepping back. 

“You can say about yourself, but Cseenan says he will _not duel_.”

Kylo gave a throaty yell, rising to his feet and turning away to stomp towards the tables.

“You should go to the medbay,” Tomaxx told him.

_“Fuck_ the medbay,” he snapped over his shoulder. 

“Master—“

“I’m _fine._ I just need to sit—“ He was wracked with another cramp, this one squeezing the breath from his lungs, just managing to catch himself on the table and lower himself onto the bench without falling. 

“Just leave him, Blue,” Cseenan snapped, voice continuing sarcastically, “He’s obviously _fine.”_

The Chiss slicked his black hair away from his face, red eyes shadowed by his heavy brow.

“I may not sense his pain, but I can clearly see it.”

 _Well,_ thought Kylo, _I guess that answers that about whether my mind is leaking._

It was both a relief and not, because while it meant that he was still strongly controlled around his Knights, Girl had still sensed something earlier. 

It made no fucking sense. She was untrained. Was her awakened power truly so strong? 

He did not like it. He did not like to be so easily read. 

“Shut up and practice your saber forms,” Kylo rasped, fists tight as he rested his arms on his thighs. 

Tomaxx eyed him for a moment. 

“Yes, Master.”

“Sick of saber forms,” Cseenan growled beneath his breath, calling his weapon to himself from the table so he wouldn’t have to get close to where Kylo sat. 

The two Knights got into position and sparred with flashing red and shocks of sparks, snarls and grunts and hisses of pain. Kylo watched silently, gritting through aftershocks, drinking water from the carafe, and then after a while standing to give pointers and corrections. 

Kylo tentatively practiced his own saber forms, glad that the worst of his cramps had more or less ceased, but wary of the slight tightness in his muscles that belied a possibility for them to return at the nearest provocation. He wanted to spar, to feel the burn in his lungs and body. But even just practicing forms was causing small shocks of pain to reverberate through his torso, and he knew that allowing the spasms to persist would only do more damage at this point. He needed to take it easy.

When the Knight’s switched to hand-to-hand combat after another hour, it only lasted as long as Cseenan’s temper. The Barabel’s earlier jovial attitude was long gone, no longer amused by getting thrown to the floor over and over again by the lithe Chiss. 

Tomaxx stood, only slightly out of breath, flicking his hair back and wiping the blood from his nose with a look of distaste. 

“That was a cheap shot, Cseenan.”

The Barabel got back to his feet with only a small stumble, growling subtonally. 

“You keep flipping me like that, Blue, and I’ll do worse-wise.”

“Maybe if you were better at controlling your balance, you wouldn’t—“

Cseenan struck out, apparently having been paying far closer attention to the Chiss’s moves than originally thought, and managed to get the other Knight flipped to the ground, a clawed hand around his throat, another lashing out as if to slice across Tomaxx’s face. The Chiss stopped it with a two-handed catch on the Knight’s wrist, both of their arms straining and shaking from the opposite force. 

The Barabel’s eyes were set with deadly intent, and the Chiss noticed it with dawning seriousness. 

“I think it’s time to take a break, now.” He turned his head minutely towards Kylo, but kept his eyes on the Knight in his grasp.

“Don’t you agree, Master?”

Kylo walked closer, his saber casting an angry red glow on the floor, observing the scene tensely. 

“Yes,” he said, pausing to judge the Barabel’s temper before switching off his blade. “Go clean up. Eat. Rest. Tomorrow we will finish preparations.”

Cseenan wrenched his arm back, standing and shoving past Kylo for his things on the table, grabbing them and stalking to the door without a backwards glance or word. 

The look Tomaxx gave Kylo when he retrieved his own things was both tired and frustrated. 

“You probably aren’t fit enough for a duel for another two days, Master, but I look forward to when everything is back to the way it used to be.”

Kylo breathed in deeply, letting it out through his nose.

“Things will never return to how they used to be,” he told his apprentice, a heavy weight in his chest as he said the words. “All we can do is adapt to the new normal.”

Tomaxx looked down, thinking quietly, then glanced up, crimson intensely focused. 

“Things could return back to before,” he said lowly. “The solution is simple. But evidently not easy. Perhaps that is where the true test lies.”

Kylo knew he was talking about Girl, about keeping her versus getting rid of her somehow. Kylo had already spoken of his intent in regards to the slave, and the reasoning behind it. He would not repeat himself now. 

Tomaxx said nothing else, following the path Cseenan took out of the training room, leaving Kylo alone. 

He knew what could be done, what should be done, what was the easiest way to fix things. 

He just didn’t think he could do it. Not with his curiosity burning through him about this untrained slave girl who was somehow throwing his carefully constructed world off-kilter without even being aware of it. 

_I will figure all of this out_ , he promised himself. _I will fix things, without sacrificing anyone._  
  
Maybe if he believed it hard enough, it might actually come true. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone have to run the beep test at their school? The students in Japan have to do it, and sometimes I'm tempted to join and see how long I can last 😂 (Of course, the beep test irl does NOT have stun blasts from droids 😂😂😂 You just keep track of how many laps you can do.)
> 
> I have drawn a couple pictures! For anyone who didn't see them on my Instagram or Tumblr, I drew a picture of the auction in chapter 1, as well as a funny sketch of Kylo's dream about Cseenan stealing blankets. You can see them on chapter 1 and chapter 54, respectively 😁✨
> 
> Lulutina_art also drew more fanart!! They are scenes from ch 52, when Rey senses Kylo's pain and fever sickness, and ch 54 when they are in the corridor walking. [Check out her other art too! ](https://www.instagram.com/lulutina_art/)
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Thank you again for your wonderful art!! 😍😁✨❤️
> 
> Next chapter: Rey is given some necessities, and dinner goes relatively okay.....sort of....  
> Posting date: Sunday September 27, 9PM Japan time


	57. A Bed and a Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Lord Ren have a relatively chill evening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings. Enjoyyyy ✨

* * *

When Lord Ren arrived back at the rooms in a cloud of sweat and stormy coldness, his stiff gait took him straight to his rooms without a glance in Rey’s direction, and she knew right then that the tingling she’d felt blooming around her body before must have been more spasms. Evidently they must have hindered his training practice by the mood he was in. 

Rey looked up with a pounding heart, prepared to be attentive, but the bedroom door closed soundly behind him without a word. She frowned, her fingers nervously tugging on the band around her wrist. 

She would need to be careful so as to not set her master’s temper off any more. He hadn’t lashed out violently at her since the thing he did in the medbay, but she could tell that he’d wanted to more than once (although more than once she had probably deserved it). He was restraining himself, but she wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

Troog had had his triggers as well—mostly drink and bad sales—and Rey had learned to tread carefully around him, doting in a desperate sort of way, hoping that by making herself a better servant somehow he would not take out his anger on her too badly. 

Sometimes it worked, and it was for those times that she kept trying. Feeling out a master’s temper and finding ways to dampen it without actually appearing to do so—a crime of manipulation that usually garnered her even more swift wrath whenever she was suspected of it— was a skill she had quickly learned with Vins, although it had not done her much good there. The Twi’Lek had been randomly cruel, and just as randomly mollified.

With Troog she had been more successful, and normally calmed him by strategically placing his favorite card game nearby. He would begin to play against himself, which always put him in a good mood because no matter how the game went, he’d win. 

Rey was going to have to learn what Lord Ren responded better to in times like this. She did not want to make him more angry. She did not want to experience anymore Force pain if she could help it.

Twenty-five minutes later, as Rey continued to absentmindedly finger the band on her wrist, her eyes scanning the datapad laid on her lap, the bedroom door opened again. Lord Ren seemed less tense, less angry, and Rey felt some of the tightness in her back smooth out a fraction. 

She was about to ask if there was anything he needed, when he spoke first. 

“I’ve ordered a cot and things for you that should be arriving soon. You seemed keen on sleeping behind the couch—I’ll have the droids set things up there, unless you have any glaring objections to such an arrangement?”

Rey blinked, taken aback. He was giving her a _bed?_ She thought she would be back on the floor soon. Already she felt she had overstayed her welcome on the couch. 

“I will sleep wherever you tell me to, Sir,” she answered. 

His head dipped. “That goes without saying, but I’ll take that as a ‘no glaring objections’.”

Rey watched tensely as he walked to the small steps and looked at the space behind the couch, his gaze lingering on the wall of shelves.

He turned to her, and she sat up straighter.

“I said it before, but it bears repeating: do not touch anything on that wall,” he warned.

Rey nodded, and shook her head, “Yessir, I won’t.”

“I _will_ know it if you do.”

She eyed the objects through the geometric grate, looking for anything that would betray some sort of alarm system. She couldn’t tell from this vantage point, but she decided she would just have to take his word for it.

“Are they expensive?” She asked, curious. Some of them looked to be so, but others of them just looked like common junk. 

Lord Ren turned his head, his voice low, somewhat musing and warning all in one. 

“Not in the way you think they are.”

Rey’s skin prickled. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she stayed silent. He thought quietly for a moment, and then hummed an electric sound,

“Hm.”

Rey frowned.

“Sir?”

He spoke aloud, voice wry,

“It’s not quite the same way as you said, but it seems you will be joining my collection anyways, little slave.”

She was confused for a second until her words came back to her from when she’d exploded so terribly at him, and then she looked sideways, sheepish. _“Am I just another pretty but unused thing to add to your collection? Should I make room for myself on a shelf?”_

Should she apologize again? Probably not. Lord Ren did not seem to like it when she said sorry too many times. 

He didn’t appear upset about it, anyways. She wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling at the moment, which may have been from her descending cloud of exhaustion. It was stupid how tired she was, because she’d barely done anything today aside from follow after her master for a total of fifteen minutes and then sit for the rest of the time, reading. 

Even now she felt rude for staying sitting on the couch while he was not, her being too bone-weary to stand.

Her master turned back to the shelves, looking at them silently for a long moment until a beep at the door revealed a small convoy of droids, breaking the strange silence with mechanical activity. 

Lord Ren removed himself from the steps and crossed his arms stiffly as they filed in. Rey’s chest tingled, but she ignored it, gripping her hands to keep them from rubbing at her breastbone. 

There was a chime from Lord Ren’s commlink then, and after checking it he looked at her. 

“Can you handle the arrangements?” Lord Ren asked.

She nodded quickly, “Yessir.”

“Good,” he said, disappearing back into his room to answer the call.

Rey got up on shaky legs and directed the assembly to set up the portable cot in the space behind the couch, keeping an eye to make sure they did not get too close to the shelves as they moved about. It felt good to do something productive, to show she was capable of keeping house, even if it was just making sure the droids did as they were programmed to do.

It was put together within minutes, a thin mat set on top, with a small pile of neatly folded bedclothes left in Rey’s hands. In addition to the thin sheets, Lord Ren had also gotten her two blankets, an actual _pillow,_ and a collapsable box that fit under the low cot, which she assumed would be for clothes and things.   
  
Once she finished laying out the sheets and blankets on the mat, she took a step back to survey it. The cot looked to Rey like the most luxurious bed she’d ever laid eyes on. And it was for _her._

Lord Ren came back to the area as the droids left—finally taking the sergeant’s jacket with them, thank _Maker—_ ascending the steps in one stride to assess the work. He nodded after a moment. 

“That should do.”

It could have been a pile of blankets on the floor and she would have been happy. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she said with earnest. “It’s…more than I deserve.”

He looked to where she stood near the other steps.

“You deserve exactly what I give you, nothing less. Understood?”

She hesitated before nodding silently. He continued,

“Stop telling me what I should or should not do when it comes to you. Or am I not the master here?”

Rey bowed her head, chastened. “You are, Sir.”

“Things may be different here from what you are used to on Jakku, but that does not mean they are wrong.”

She nodded again with a small, “Okay.”

He did not seem convinced of her answer, and in honesty she wasn’t quite convinced herself. He continued, voice low:  
  
“I do not gain anything from humiliating you with ragged things. If anything it reflects badly on me for you to not have your basic needs cared for. That I allowed you to be here in the beginning without proper care was my failure, and one that I will not repeat. You will have a basic bed, you will have clean clothes, food, medical care, and opportunity to take care of hygiene. These things are not luxuries; they’re necessities. Find a way to accept that, because I tire of you constantly second-guessing my decisions.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Don’t apologize, just do what I say.”

“Yessir.”

She felt him watch her for a moment longer and then he stiffly turned away with a low, “Go sit. Your monitor is red,” his robes swishing as he disappeared back into his bedroom. 

Rey looked down at the wrist band, noting the blinking red light and sighed. She was angry at herself for it, but did as told, going back to the couch to take up her datapad, crossing her legs beneath her to warm her feet. Even socked as they were, the chill of the floor still seeped through, and her boots were too stiff to wear comfortably around. She was tired of reading, but wary of looking like she wasn’t being productive with her studies. 

A short time later of Rey not really absorbing the words written before her, the main door beeped and opened for FX-8. 

“Hello,” Rey greeted kindly as it rolled up, relieved to be able to put down the datapad for a moment.

<hello, miss. How are you feeling?>

“I already told you, you don’t have to call me ‘miss.’ Just Girl is fine,” she chastised softly, “And I’m very tired but otherwise okay.”

It beeped in acquiescence and then began its checkup, taking another prick of her blood for analysis after asking her the usual set of questions. 

Lord Ren appeared in the doorway, casually leaning with arms crossed. 

“What’s the diagnosis now?”

FX-8’s head swiveled towards the master,

<she is still anemic, sir. And other essential minerals and electrolytes are very low. But this was anticipated, and a more potent supplemental broth was prepared for her. If her body is unable to restore nutritional balance on its own by day after tomorrow, she will need to be put back on an intravenous supplement>

“Hm.”

Rey couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or not, but decided she should feel embarrassed and ashamed anyways. What was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she getting better?

“Her blood pressure is still low when she stands for too long,” her master added.

<Her sodium can be increased to try and reverse the low blood pressure> the droid said, <but that will cause her body to hold more fluids, which could put strain on her organs. When her anemia is reversed, and when her heart has strengthened from the supplements, her body’s blood pressure will naturally right itself.>

“I see.”

<in the meantime, she should continue to wear the blood pressure monitor, consume the supplements, and rest. Too much strain will cause her health to deteriorate again.>

Rey did _not_ like the sound of that. But how was she to get stronger if she didn’t put herself through strain? All her life the only way she ever got through anything was to push through it, even if it was painful, even if she thought she would die. 

She would rest, sure, but she wouldn’t just lie around like a layabout. She did not want to become spoiled and complacent. 

She didn’t want to feel useless.

“We don’t want her to deteriorate,” Lord Ren mumbled, shifting slightly. “Do you have any idea why her body has become imbalanced like this?”

<more tests would be needed in order to make a conclusive diagnosis, sir.>

“Well, I suppose we’ll see what can be done tomorrow. If you’ve nothing else, and if Girl doesn’t need anything from you, you’re dismissed.”

<Yes, sir.>

The photosensor eye refocused on Rey, the compartment containing her dinner broth opening for her. She took the cup with thanks and softly told the droid she didn’t need anything, she was fine. It beeped and left.

Lord Ren waited for the door to close before addressing her.

“Come sit here at the table.”

Rey felt her heart jolt slightly, wondering if she’d done something wrong and now he was going to interrogate her about it. Was he going to continue to scold her for what she did in the medbay earlier? Or for being so persistent about wanting punishment? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure.

“Calm down,” Lord Ren rumbled. “I want to see how much you’ve managed to learn, and I don’t want things spilled on the couch.”

Her nerves somewhat assuaged, she nodded and got up with her cup, quietly padding past the tall master to sit down in the chair she used before. There was a faint scent of soap and bacta in the air, which she concluded meant Lord Ren had showered and tended to his injuries after returning. That explained his dampened temper.

He sat in his usual seat, and Rey realized that his dinner meal had yet to be delivered, so she set her cup down and folded her hands on her lap.

“How much of the Way of Ren do you have memorized?” He began.

“Most of it, Sir.”

“Tell me.”

Rey took in a breath, and then recited what she could remember. She stumbled over some parts, and then in her anxiety forgot another line entirely, but when she stopped and quietly admitted, “That’s it, for now,” Lord Ren gave a slow nod, his electric voice low but obviously pleased.

“Very good. That’s a lot more than I expected.”

The warmth in her breast from the praise loosened the spikes of fretfulness there, and she took in a deeper breath. 

“The Way of Ren is interesting,” she said, and sensed another pleased flare from the master. She looked sideways, admitting, “It’s easier to study than the First Order rules, at least.”

“I can imagine.”

“There’s a whole section on the proper way to fold clothes in the First Order protocol book,” she added, frowning. “I didn’t realize it was so important to fold the left sleeve before the right sleeve.”

“Tidiness and order is paramount to a well-run ship,” he explained. “Everything has its rules, has its methods. As tedious as it may seem, this is what separates us from the enemy and makes us stronger.”

_Who exactly is the enemy?_ she wanted to ask, but that felt too close to touching on something she was not supposed to know, something she was not supposed to acknowledge outside of the airtight room of secrecy from the morning. 

What she really wanted was to ask about the Force, about meditation, but she became nervous the same way she had before when he’d scolded her for being too loud in her mental thrashing. She wanted to be shown how to do all of the things expressed in the Way of Ren, but she knew it was not her place to ask. Lord Ren would teach her when he deemed her worthy.

“It may be boring, but it’s important,” he continued, shifting in his seat slightly. “And it’s good for you to know how to properly fold your clothes since they’ll be kept in that box. Wrinkled clothes are unacceptable.”

Fully chastened Rey nodded. 

They lapsed into another awkward silence, and Rey wondered if her thoughts were being loud again. She tried to think of nothing, tried to pretend she was the ‘nothing’ she knew she was, but Lord Ren broke her concentration with a rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table, and his words,  
  
“You haven’t touched your cup.”

Rey shook her head, “No Sir.”  
  
“Why?”

“You haven’t received your food yet, Sir.” She knew not to eat before a master did.   
  
Lord Ren’s fingers stilled. 

“And do you think that once I receive it, I will just kick you out to the couch to sit and wait while I eat, and then have you come back in again?”

Rey glanced to the side, her initial thought being _yes, I do, because that is what’s proper._ But things were different here. There was a different culture among these people, especially under this master, and she was apparently far more ignorant of what was proper now than she realized. Her face heated at the recognition of her error. 

“…No, Sir.”

“Then drink.”

She wordlessly took up the cup and sipped, unable to stop herself from the slight twist of her features as the strong flavor assaulted her. It was a lot more ‘potent’ than before for sure, but not so unpleasant so as to be undrinkable. She’d eaten rotten meat and drank all manner of dirty water on Jakku. This was fine.

Rey took another sip, her face twitching, and Lord Ren gestured to the ‘fresher.

“If you need to water it down to make it more palatable, go ahead.”

Rey felt a wave of unease descend upon her. Sergeant Wolson had said something similar to her when he’d given her the red juice. He’d been offering a kind gesture, and now he was dead. 

Guilt twisted Rey’s stomach and she shook her head, both to answer her master and to knock the thoughts from her mind. 

“I’ll drink it like this,” she decided quietly. It was the least she could do. The smallest fraction of atonement. She didn’t deserve to water it down.

“Suit yourself.”

He settled into a more relaxed position in his seat, sitting almost sideways, his legs crossed, one arm on the table and the other in his lap. He looked away, the quality of air about him becoming muddled as he was seemingly lost in thought. 

Rey slowly imbibed, trying to be quiet about it because it felt awkward to sip loudly in the silence. She didn’t want to make a presence of herself, although she almost choked when he suddenly looked over at her.

“There is something else I wanted to discuss,” he said, voice low, and Rey sat up straighter, her ears perked and attention steady. 

“As you are aware now, the Knights and I are working on a very important matter.”

Rey nodded silently.

He sat without speaking for another drawn moment, looking at her, assessing her. Rey held still, hoping she did not come up wanting in his eyes. He finally spoke, his words veiled somewhat,

“We are trying to find someone—a person who is a danger to us. He has been in hiding for almost eight years, and I have been searching for him for just as long. In fact, it was in this search that I was brought to Jakku in the first place.”

Rey just stared, wide-eyed, gravely enraptured. 

Lord Ren looked away, speaking,

“We have a lead that could bring us closer to finding him than ever before.”

“A map,” she whispered.

The silver lines of his mask glinted around the fathomless black visor as he looked back at her, a staticky, “Yes,” emitting from his vocomodulator. 

“We are missing a piece, but we might be able to get it back from those who stole it if we act quickly.”

Someone stole it? Was it the pilot man that FN-2187 had helped escape? Rey felt guilt bloom anew, but tried to quash it down. 

“The Knights and I will be leaving to search for it the day after tomorrow. You will stay here.”

Rey’s heart plummeted, her stomach curling around the liquid nutrients.

“We will be gone no longer than a week,” he told her as if to reassure her, but all it did was make her chest constrict even more. A _week?_

“Communication will be sparse. We have to be careful; we cannot be found out by the enemy or they will try to find the map before us.”

Rey frowned, worried.

“What happens if they find it?”

His fist clenched, the leather creaking.

“They will enlist the man who hides behind it, and he is one who believes we should be wiped out because of our power. He will try to kill us. He is one of the only people in the galaxy who actually could.”

Rey filed this information away, but couldn’t help to try and imagine what such a man would look like. Who could kill Lord Ren, _and_ his Knights? What sort of terrible beastly person existed that would do such a thing to them, just because they have Force powers?

Sergeant Wolson wasn’t the only one with such discriminatory thinking apparently. 

“So you’re trying to find him,” Rey said, thinking aloud, “in order to stop him before…the enemy…can get him and use him to kill us.”

“Correct.”

“I can help.”

Lord Ren sighed, but it wasn’t angry.

“You can’t.”  
  
“I..I can do something on the shuttle. I can help somehow, Sir. Please, I can help.”   
  
_Please don’t leave me here. Not again. Not for a whole week._

He looked at her, his hidden eyes making her skin prickle and crawl. 

Suddenly he stood.

“Stand up.”

Was this like before? When he had begun to challenge her to prove him wrong? He didn’t seem angry now, though. 

Rey stood, uncertain.

Lord Ren dragged his chair closer to her and pointed at it.

“Lift this onto the table.”

She blinked up at him.

“What?”

“If you can lift this chair and put it on the table without fainting, you can come.”

She looked at the chair. It was metal, like everything else, and from handling her own chair she knew it couldn’t be that heavy, right? She’d lifted droid and speeder parts bigger and heavier than this. She could definitely do this.

Rey put her cup on her own chair to protect it, then went to Lord Ren’s and tensed her back, bent her knees, and grabbed the edges of the seat. She lifted, getting it off the floor, but quickly realized that her usual upper body strength was nowhere near what it usually was. It was almost nonexistent, in fact. She tried to use her knee to push the chair up from the bottom, but it wasn’t enough and she was losing her balance, her arms shaking from the strain. 

The band on her wrist blinked red a second before the alarm shrieked, black spots filled her vision and she quickly put the chair back down, the suddenly release of tension making her stumble to the side, falling hard to her knees. 

She gasped for air, her heart thudding, the alarm loud and shaming. 

Lord Ren stood with arms crossed, and then without a word he moved his chair back to its place and sat down.

“You’re staying.”

Rey could only nod, still too out of breath to say anything, still blinking spots from her vision. 

Once she was sure she wouldn’t actually faint, she staggered back to her feet, moving the cup to sit heavily in her seat, eyes downcast, once again ashamed and angry at herself. 

“I admire your tenacity,” Lord Ren rumbled, “but you need to accept the limits of your body and health right now.”

_You’re one to talk_ , she almost snapped, but only just managed to press her lips shut and keep the words in. 

He tapped the table, bringing her gaze up.

“Stop being angry at yourself. You’ve done a good job with your studies in spite of the ailments plaguing you. Keep going at this pace and I’ll be able to move you onto something more mentally stimulating very soon.”

“When you get back,” she muttered.

He nodded. “When I get back.” 

Rey took another sip, struggling to swallow. She felt slightly ill. 

_Is it dangerous?_ She wanted to ask, but didn’t. She knew it probably was. She knew they could get into trouble, and possibly get killed. And then she would become property of the First Order. 

She shouldn’t doubt her master’s ability to stay alive, but she was also a realist, and reality told her she needed to study the First Order protocol more closely, just in case. 

They settled into a heavy silence again, Lord Ren finally picking up his datapad and Rey choking down broth as inconspicuously as possible. 

After a small while of this her master spoke without even looking up, 

“Go water it down. I can practically foresee you making yourself sick. Such pride will get you nowhere.”

“Yessir,” Rey grumbled, face red, and got up to put more water in the cup from the ‘fresher sink.

The broth was much, much easier to drink afterwards, though. Which was good because the kitchen droid arrived with Lord Ren’s tray of food, and she realized he was probably not going to eat until she was finished and back in the other room. 

He didn’t seem impatient to eat though. He ignored the tray and continued to read his device, never once commanding her to hurry up. She tried to do so herself without being asked, but had to take a pause when her stomach cramped at the overload. 

A couple times he stiffened and she could feel the signs of a spasm, but they did not feel as bad as before so she managed to avoid staring at him in worry. He told her not to fret before, so she would try not to fret. 

Finally, she was down to the dregs of the broth, gulping them down and setting the cup on the table with queasy satisfaction. 

Lord Ren looked up.

“Finished?”

“Yessir,” she rasped. “Sorry.”

“It is not an issue for me to wait, Girl. It is an issue for me if you are not eating.” He set his datapad down, leaned back in his seat. 

“Go sit and read.”

Rey got up with a quiet word of obedience and softly walked into the adjacent room to sit back on the couch with her datapad. The bedroom door shut, and she let out a long breath. 

She had a light sweat from the effort of keeping the nausea at bay, and her belly felt more gurgly than before, but it was fine. She would be fine. 

After a while the nausea settled, the weight of the liquid warming her more pleasantly now, and as she sat trying to read she found her eyelids drooping more than once. 

It was an indeterminate time later that she felt something nudge her foot, and she jerked awake. Lord Ren stood before her, so tall. 

“Get ready for sleep,” he ordered.

She gave a groggy, “Yessir,” and sat up, rubbing the crick in her neck from the awkward position she’d fallen asleep in. She stood but sat again at the red shriek from her wristband, and she quickly held it against her stomach to muffle it, cursing softly beneath her breath. 

Lord Ren watched her with arms crossed, and she apologized again.

“Stop saying sorry for things you can’t control,” he growled.

She felt like she should have this under control though. She should be better. Somehow this was her fault, and now it was inconveniencing them both. 

Once she felt like her heart could take it, she stood and followed her master to the bedroom, where he gestured to a pile of clothing on the table. 

“There are sleep clothes there. The rest is your clean uniform and things. Put those in your box.”

Rey nodded and went to the ‘fresher with the sleep clothes, noting the small container of toiletries conspicuously left out. She changed, removing the blood pressure band, admiring the softness of the sleepwear compared to the stiff uniform as she put it on. 

Then she did her business, cleaned her teeth and took a few gulps of water before grabbing the container, exiting, and silently gathering the rest of the items into her arms. It was another small thrill to be placing them into her storage, all folded and organized neatly. Her clothes. Her box. Her bed. 

Rey’d had tools and things under Troog, but he’d always reminded her that he owned them, and she owned nothing— Not even the clothes on her back. She hadn’t truly had her own things since Nybian. But everything she’d accumulated during that time had been auctioned off or given away when the old woman had died and Rey had been briefly left as property of the local slavers guild, before being sold to Troog.

Rey missed her things she’d collected with Nybian. So many of them had been useless bobbles and pretty knicknacks, but all of them had been precious to her.

_“Maybe someday we’ll have our own home, Reybeam. A stone hut, just for me and you. No more roaming, no more wandering. How does that sound? We’ll fill it with color and beauty, like a dream—”_

Lord Ren appeared at the stairs, his large frame making the area seem so small, and Rey flinched and blinked back tears, pushing the box back under the cot, wiping quickly at the wetness, embarrassed. 

“Tomorrow will be the same schedule as today,” he told her, evidently uncaring of her state. “You will shower while I eat breakfast, then we’ll go to the medbay when you are finished. Perhaps they will have better news.”

“I hope so, Sir,” Rey said, clearing her throat. 

He gave a stiff nod.

“So do I. We’ll spend the morning at the Situation Room, and then you’ll come back here while I train the Knights and finish preparing to go.”

“Yessir.”

He gave another nod, and then unceremoniously turned and went back into his bedroom for the night without another word. 

Rey sat on her bed, allowing herself the leisure of browsing the holonet for a little while before the lights dimmed. Then she put the device beneath her cot, tucked herself under the warm blankets, and laid her head on her soft pillow. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh....it's nice to have some chill time finally 😇 They're still a bit awkward but they'll get comfortable in time 😁✨
> 
> I have on my [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/veggieheist_art/) and on my [Tumblr](https://veggieheist.tumblr.com/post/630306994990071808/so-i-finished-writing-chapter-58-and-rewarded) some hilarious (to me) Draw The Gang memes featuring our favorite Knights and Master. Chains up til now has been kindof pretty angsty and dark, so if you need some levity go check them out 😂 
> 
> I hope everyone had a lovely first day of fall last week 🍃 🍂 🍁 (And first day of spring to any southern hemisphere readers 😘🌺 🌸 🌼 🌻) I made some fall vegetable stew and rosemary bread using the rosemary I grew on my balcony to celebrate. The temperatures have been dropping since then, and the recent typhoons have brought rain. It's been a nice chill time 😌 Perfect for a hot drink and a movie.
> 
> Do you guys have a favorite Rainy Day activity/movie? Around this time I love watching Over the Garden Wall 👀
> 
> Anywho,   
> Next chapter: Kylo takes Girl for a medbay checkup, and then tries to get some work done in the Situation Room........  
> Posting Date: Sunday, 🎃ctober 4th at 9PM Japan time.


	58. A Slip of the Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings needed as far as I can tell. Let me know tho.

* * *

Kylo woke at the chime of his alarm, energized and ready to get on with the day. He’d fallen asleep easily last night, succumbing to the leftover exhaustion from his illness, coupled with the lethargic effects of the (disappointing) training session, and slept deeply, with hardly any memorable dreams.

He sat up, glad to feel little resistance against the movement, although there was still an ache about his chest. He padded to the ‘fresher, and as he peeled the bacta patches back in the shower, he could see the wound was much less an angry red and more of a tender pink. 

He hoped this meant the spasms and cramps would be finished as well. If he was weakened by them on Phu, it could cost him his life, or the lives of his Knights. 

_Let’s be done with this_ , he thought with a scowl, and began to scrub himself down. 

Shaved, dried, and new patches applied, Kylo added drops to his ears and eyes for good measure—he was fine with his skin scarring, but did not want to end up with compromised sight and hearing for the rest of his life—and then he quickly dressed and sat to browse the holonet and wait for breakfast. 

It wasn’t long until the door alerted him to an arrival, but when it opened it was Girl who stood there, holding the tray.

Her hair—still in buns—and sleep clothes were slightly mussed from slumber, her eyes somewhat puffy, probably from her crying. She’d been obviously overcome with emotion last night but he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to it. It was strange something so simple as a bed and a box could be so impactful on a person. 

Aside from the circles around her eyes and lingering gauntness, there was a healthier pallor to her face today, the better sleep in an actual bed hopefully helping in that regard.  
  
Still, Kylo frowned, finding it jarring for some reason to see her there. 

“What are you doing?”

She dipped her head demurely. “It’s your breakfast, Sir. The droid just brought it.”

“I understand that. But why do you have it?”

Her brows creased, her voice edged with a hint of grumble, 

“I may not be able to get it from the kitchens, but I can take it from the droid at the door and put it on the table, Sir.”

He watched her for a moment, half annoyed by her slight attitude and half amused. 

“You are very stubborn.”

She shifted on her feet, head bowing further. 

“Sorry.”  
Kylo let out a sigh, gestured at the table. 

“Go on then.”

She quietly nodded, entered the room and put the tray down carefully at his seat, then retreated. She came back again a few moments later holding clothes and the container of toiletries—simple soap, toothcare items, and a hairbrush—in her arms. She paused outside the ‘fresher, glancing at him in question.

“Fifteen minutes, Sir?”

Kylo nodded, pleased she remembered and was not making him repeat the plan he had told her last night.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Yessir.”

The ‘fresher door shut behind her, and he waited a minute before removing his helmet again and eating the meal.

He was done and concealed again by the time the ‘fresher door opened once more, revealing a cleaned and crisply dressed Girl. Kylo watched her with an assessing eye as she moved to put her worn clothes into the laundry chute. There was some small hesitance at first, her gaze searching the clothes in her grasp for a moment before looking up at him tentatively.

“In the chute,” he told her.

“But I only wore them once.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll be cleaned and returned by end of day-cycle. There’ll be no more wearing things for days at a time.”

She nodded, still with an uncertain pinch to her face, before putting them into the receptacle. 

Then she sat at the table, taking up the cup the medidroid had brought, and sipped quietly. She winced again at the flavor the way she had last night, but smoothed her features out quickly after a glance up. 

Kylo folded his hands atop his datapad, his voice low and wry. 

“Are you going to force yourself to drink that until I tell you to water it down again, or are you going to water it down now and save us both the trouble?”

Her cheeks reddened, her lips thin as she scowled down at the cup. Wordlessly she stood and went to the ‘fresher sink, then returned with a slightly fuller cup. 

“That’s what I thought,” Kylo muttered, returning to the news. 

Breakfast went quietly, Girl’s thoughts occasionally churning, but she seemed to be more aware of them now and so they would quiet at times, her face tense with concentration. Meditation would be easy for her, probably. She was already gaining more control over the volume of her mind just on her own. 

Perhaps he would give her meditation exercises to do while he was away, to help her further. 

Technically it wasn’t going against his master’s orders because it wasn’t training her in the Force. It was for his peace of mind and sanity, really, which was for the best for both of them.

Eventually her loud thoughts were going to become bothersome to the Knights as well, especially since she was going to be around them more often, and Kylo had a feeling Cseenan would be particularly affected. Things were still on tenterhooks with the Barabel, and Kylo did not want them to get any worse. 

There wasn’t much time for it now because of the final touches that needed to be done for their mission to Phu, but he would help her with it later tonight when training was finished. 

She was certainly self-willed enough to warrant some instruction. No doubt she’d spend the entire week working on it. 

Last night when she’d begged him to come with them to Phu, he had been more bored than annoyed with it. He knew she was desperate to prove herself, but there were things she just couldn’t do, whether because of the limits of her health or because of other constraints. She needed to learn that, and accept it. 

Sometimes one’s best just isn’t good enough.

Kylo looked up from his datapad after a small while, noticing that Girl had paused her imbibing for more than a couple minutes.

“Finished?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, Sir. But…my stomach…” She looked down at the remaining supplement in the cup with a pained expression.

“It’s fine if you can’t drink it all,” he told her. “Don’t make yourself sick.”

“I can drink it later,” she said, pulling the cup closer. “I won’t waste it.”

“They’ll give you more later,” he reminded her. 

“I don’t want to waste it,” she repeated, voice smaller. 

He wanted to berate her for a futile thing as that, almost reminding her about all the food she’s already wasted so far since coming aboard, but considered it would probably reopen her immense guilt about everything and wisely kept his mouth shut. There was no harm in humoring her on this. 

“Fine. Go put it on that stand.” He pointed to the bedside table where his chrono sat. “The droids know not to touch anything there.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured, getting up to do as commanded. 

Instead of sitting back down she went into the adjacent room, coming back a minute later with her boots on, the pant legs tucked in neatly, and her datapad in hand. 

Kylo closed out his device and stood, checking that he had Girl’s identichip and his commlink. 

He’d gotten a comm last night about a high command meeting, but had told the comms officer he would not be available until after his mission. All time and efforts needed to be prioritized, and there was nothing more important than finding the map and rooting out the Resistance. 

“Let’s go,” Kylo said and began to walk out. Once again he had to slow his pace, mindful of Girl’s condition, frowning behind his mask at her heavy breathing as they stood in the lift. 

She suddenly gripped her arm with a gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I forgot the monitor.”

He pushed aside the flash of annoyance at her forgetfulness, grumbling,

“Well it’s a good thing we’re headed to the medbay, isn’t it.”  
“I’m sorry, Sir.”

Kylo stayed silent, not wanting to say ‘it’s fine’ because he did not want her to think it was okay to be forgetful. Even small things could build up. She needed to remember things better, especially things concerning her health. 

“Don’t forget again,” he warned lowly. 

“I won’t,” she promised quietly.

She was less hesitant to exit the lift this time, although he could still sense some nervousness from her when the door opened to so many people marching about. She had not had the best record with the First Order officers so far, however, so he did not begrudge her the anxiety.

Kylo was slightly _wary_ of what could happen while he was away on Phu, but had already come up with a plan to at least help keep Girl from being stolen away by anyone. At least, if she _was_ stolen away, she would be found quickly. 

He realized last night after officially deciding that she was staying, that more precautions needed to be put in place to assure himself that she would be locate-able at all times. So, before bed last night he’d sent an order through for a customized S-wave transmitter, and he hoped it would be finished and delivered to him by end of day-cycle to make sure it would work. The design may be in bad taste, but it was the only one he could think of that would guarantee enough time for him to find her before whoever tried to take her would get it disarmed.

This all relied upon her attackers wanting to take her alive, of course. 

It was all paranoia, and when his fears turned out to be baseless he would feel foolish, but for now he would plan as if there were more defecting kidnappers on board than just the two. It was the only way he was getting through his mission on Phu without being completely distracted. 

The medbay was empty again when they entered, although a medidroid approached within a minute to attend. It directed them to one of the open medcots along the wall, and Girl obediently sat while it ran diagnostics on her blood, asking questions while checking her blood pressure and other vitals.

<there is not much improvement with nutrient and iron levels in your blood> it concluded. <But it is not worse. If there is no deterioration by tomorrow, the potent supplements will be continued and the intravenous therapy put on hold>

“Then let’s hope she does not deteriorate by then,” Kylo droned, arms crossed. 

Captain Greev appeared from around the corner. She was talking with another male medic, who froze and scurried away upon seeing Kylo and receiving a word from the captain. She marched up to the master with efficient steps, her severe face breaking into a stiff smile.

“Lord Ren, I trust things are in working order here.”

“Indeed, the droid was just finishing its diagnostics.”

She scanned the holo readout, a moue of dissatisfaction turning down her thin lips. 

“Not much improvement.” She looked up, steely eyes pinning Girl where she sat tense and increasingly uncomfortable.

“Are you not consuming the supplements? Or doing something to put strain on your body?”

“I’m drinking everything, ma’am,” Girl answered, then glanced away. “What my stomach can hold.”

“You need to be drinking all of it,” the captain scolded, another tight smile splitting her mouth. “It’s measured precisely for a reason.”

“What good does it do if forcing herself to drink all of it makes her sick?” Kylo argued, the air going slightly chilly around them. “Her stomach isn’t used to it.”

The captain did not relent. “That’s the point of the liquid diet, milord: For her stomach to become used to it. It will not come without discomfort, but that’s to be expected. Besides,” she looked at Girl, “I’m sure she’s eaten worse things on Jakku, isn’t that right?” 

Girl stared down at her lap, her ears pink.

“Yes, ma’am,” she admitted quietly. 

“All sorts of garbage and scraps, right?” 

Kylo felt himself angered further, especially as the slave gave a tiny nod. But angry at what or whom, he wasn’t sure. 

“You should be able to drink a simple cup of supplements,” the strict woman concluded with a teasing scoff, then set her sights on the master. “And as her master you should make sure she does so. It’s for her recovery, for her own good.”

“Fine,” he growled. 

She gave a crisp nod, then eyed the readout again. 

“I suppose it might help in the meantime if she was given an iron booster.”

<I can prepare an iron capsule, Captain> the droid offered.

“No, a shot will have quicker results. Girl—” the slave flinched, her shoulders coming up, “—remove your jacket. We’ll administer the shot into your shoulder.”

Girl paused for only a moment, eyes flickering towards Kylo, before saying, “Yes, ma’am.”

Kylo knew she was wearing an undershirt beneath her uniform jacket, but he still turned partly away, scowling at the openness of the area, unhappy with how public this was.

He heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of the needle gun being loaded, sensed Girl’s sudden, sharp anxiety, and then there was a click and a small hiss.

“There. That should help,” the medic said, handing the needle gun to the droid to be processed. Girl was refastening the jacket when Kylo turned back, her face slightly red and her fingers working with the smallest of trembles. 

“She should be fine for today,” Greev told him. “We’ll see what she’s like tomorrow.”

Kylo nodded tensely. “Tomorrow then. But the visits will cease for a week while I’m away.”

“We are more than capable of keeping after her in your absence, milord,” the captain assured with a frown. 

“She will be kept after,” he said, voice leaving no room for argument, “by FX-8, in my rooms.”

Greev conceded with another tight smile. “Of course, milord. I am only wanting to make sure she’s getting the care that she needs in this time. But FX-8 will do its job, I’m sure.”

“Yes,” Kylo grumbled. Girl was finished dressing, looking up at him briefly. Her hand rubbed at her arm, and he remembered the monitor.

“Is there another portable blood pressure monitor?” He asked. 

“I’m afraid Girl took our only one yesterday. Was it broken?” Her steely eyes looked at Girl accusingly. 

“No,” Kylo grit, “just forgotten.”

“I can have one sent from another medbay, milord.”

“Don’t bother. I’m sure she’ll be fine for the morning. Right?”

Girl nodded, face red and sullen. “Yessir.”

“Good. If there’s nothing else, captain, we will be going.”

“Very good, milord. Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

Girl wobbled slightly when she got back to her feet, her hand grasping the footboard of the medcot to steady herself. Her face was pale now, and Kylo knew if she’d been wearing the monitor it would be flashing red. 

The captain eyed her critically, and Girl seemed to be trying to ignore her and focus on breathing. After a few moments she nodded.

“Okay.”

Kylo gestured for her to move, his hand finding her bony back to direct her away from the rigidly assessing medic.

Once out of the medbay he dropped his hold and Girl fell back a step, clutching her datapad to her chest. 

She seemed particularly subdued, but he could sense a hive of discomfiture beneath it. No doubt the shot had not been a welcomed surprise.

He was content to remain quiet, but something that nipped at his thoughts made him break the stiff silence in the lift as it ascended. 

“Did you really eat garbage on Jakku?”  
  
Girl did not answer right away, shame blooming in the small space. He turned to look down at her, waiting for an answer with a sense of disquiet.

“Yessir,” she finally murmured. “But not because I wanted to.”

Of course, no one would _choose_ to eat trash.

“Because you had to?” He prompted.

She nodded, eyes still downcast. 

“Sometimes it was survival. Sometimes…it was punishment.”

He turned back to the front, his fists creaking. It was strange to feel secondhand embarrassment for a slave like this. He knew it was unfair to be upset at her for having lived such a life, as if it made _him_ look bad to have a slave who knew what it was like to eat trash. 

But this unwelcome knowledge reminded him she’d also been a scavenger on Jakku, which was in many ways even worse than being a pleasure slave. It was a different kind of filthy, one that did not bode well for her image should the information spread. Already people thought she was a sex slave. No one would want to go near her if they knew she’d actually been a scavenger.

“We don’t eat garbage here,” he told her, voice low and tense. “Do not tell anyone else about all that. Understood?”

She shrank further. “Yessir.”

The lift opened and they exited. Kylo tried to leave all of what just transpired behind, reorienting his thoughts to the matter at hand. The Situation Room was just around another corner when a comms officer called for him, bringing him about-face. 

“Lord Ren, I’ve been sent to inquire about your availability for the High Command meeting.”

Kylo frowned, annoyed. 

“I’ve already informed command that I am not available until after my mission.”

The young man swallowed, his voice breaking slightly. 

“Very well, milord. But I was instructed to reiterate the necessity of the meeting—“

“And you may inform _General Hux_ —“ because no doubt the snake was behind such persistence, “—that my mission comes from Supreme Leader Snoke himself,” he snapped, “So they can either wait for me, or take it up with _him.”_

“Y-yes, milord,” the officer saluted, and quickly turned to march away towards the Bridge.

Kylo resumed his path, grumbling beneath his breath. He did not enjoy going to command meetings, but he also knew that if he was not invited to them he would become equally irate. This was his flagship too. He deserved to know what mechanisms were in place and working, but he knew that Hux was only being persistent right now just to rub salt into his wounds. 

Girl was still a quiet shadow as they entered the Situation Room, and she moved to sit back in the chair in the corner without a word. 

Miraculously Cseenan did not snarl anything, although the dark look on his face as he watched her cross the room belied his want to do so. Tomaxx did not look up this time, his masked focus unbroken from the work before him, although there was a slight stiffness to his frame. His vocomodulator was staticky as he gave a low “Master,” and nod when Kylo sat down.

He gave a small nod in return, asking about their progress. With no outward objections to Girl’s presence this time, each of them answered in turn, and they managed to settle into their work easily enough. They would double and triple check all of their research and plans, ready it all for easy reference, and then tomorrow morning they would go.

Everything needed to perfect, every angle observed, every contingency planned. It was only a groundwork mission, the focus being on establishing a foothold and casing out possible leads. 

But even with that, there could be no mistakes. Not with so much on the line now.

* * *

  
~~~~OOOO~*~OOOO~~~~

* * *

  
Rey shifted in her seat for the tenth time, trying to find a comfortable position. The belt around her middle and the stiffness of her uniform made it very difficult to find one though, but she may have _finally_ found something by crossing her legs beneath her. Her knees were jammed up against the armrests and the soles of her boots were definitely going to dig into the bottom of her thighs painfully soon enough, but for now it alleviated some of the antsy energy that had buzzed beneath her skin since she’d entered the room and sat down. 

She felt terrible, truth be told, because of how stupid she was for forgetting the blood pressure band, and she was horrible for causing Lord Ren to be scolded by the captain for her eating, and ashamed that he now knew she’d eaten _unsavory_ things on Jakku—even if it had been for survival at times—and beneath it all there was a lead weight in her stomach from the unfriendly smile the medic had kept plastered to her face, which would have been disarming if not for the coldness that had gone unmasked in her pale eyes. 

But Rey was trying to not let any of it show. She did not want Lord Ren to reprimand her for having loud thoughts in front of his apprentices. And most of all, she did not want either Knight to hear her. She was terrified Lord Tomaxx would find it as some sort of invitation and enter her mind. 

Every now and then she could feel eyes on her, and she knew it was probably Lord Cseenan from the one time she’d looked up to see him staring darkly at her. She’d quickly cast her sight back down to her datapad and stiffly waited for the feeling to go away, and since then she’d just kept her head down whenever the feeling prickled along her skin. 

Only once did she have the telltale tingling that betrayed her master’s lingering muscle spasms, but it was light, almost negligible, and when she surreptitiously snuck a glance up at him, he looked to be unaffected, speaking in low tones with the two other table mates as if nothing was wrong.   
  
Maybe he was finally almost healed. Maybe his burns were almost gone too. 

She hoped they were. She hoped there would be no scars, no reminders of her betrayal, no physical evidence of the chaotic and dark times they had managed to slog through. Was this the other side? Were things finally beginning to settle? It seemed like they were, but she was hesitant to let herself accept it. 

Rey reread the last two lines on her datapad, realizing her mind had wandered and she hadn’t caught the meaning behind them. She’d spent the first hour or two going back over the Way of Ren, memorizing them to near completion this time, motivated by Lord Ren’s pleased reaction to her efforts when she recited them last night. She would show him how well she could learn, how quickly and thoroughly. She’s never wanted praise from a master the way she does from him.

Then again, she’d never had such a sophisticated and intelligent master before.

What planet was he from? Maybe a core world? Surely not some backwoods space dump like Jakk—

Rey felt an oily brush against her mind and physically recoiled back, as if it would do any good. Lords Ren and Cseenan were distracted by some detail or another on the far end of the table, leaving Lord Tomaxx the closest person to her, sitting on this side. His mask was tilted towards her inconspicuously, as if he was looking at the datapad held in his hand. But no, she knew he was looking at her. 

Her stomach clenched and her hands gripped the fabric of her pant legs as her mind seized trying to figure out what to do, what was happening, why was he trying to get into her mind, would he be mad if she somehow mentally shoved him away, would Lord Ren get mad, what—

He transferred the datapad to his other hand, then used the freed one to tap his thigh, and then pointed sharply to the floor.   
  
It took only a shocked moment for Rey to understand what he was trying to communicate, and she quickly moved to obey, unfolding her limbs and placing her feet flat on the floor, sitting rigidly upright, holding the edges of her datapad so hard it was a wonder her fingers didn’t break. 

He gave the tiniest of nods and then turned fully back to the table, his inky presence retreating from her mind, although it merely melted back into the mucky melange that permeated the room like invisible smog. 

The combined presence of the three males had been almost overwhelming yesterday but Rey had gotten somewhat used to it after a while. It had been easier to settle into today, but now the blackness of it was made starkly evident again, and it made her tremble. 

_Breathe, Rey, breathe_ , she told herself, almost grateful she wasn’t wearing the armband now because it would have absolutely been going off. She swallowed bile, sucking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, trying to slow her heart down and blink the dark spots away. 

She was fine, he hadn’t gone into her mind, just tried to get her attention because she was sitting improperly and really she should know better, good thing Lord Ren didn’t see her, Lord Tomaxx was just being helpful, but why the kriff did he have to touch her mind like that again? 

She snuck a glance up, but the Knights were all at work, as if nothing had happened. 

It took several minutes of concentrated breathing for her to calm herself enough to know she wasn’t going to faint or throw up. But the tremble remained for a while longer, as did the feeling of unease and wrongness beneath her skin and on the peripheries of her mind. 

She was sat staring at the datapad in her lap, seeing but not reading, realizing that she really was going to break something if she kept holding the device as hard as she was, so she loosened her grip and just settled it atop her sweating palms. 

There was a prickle again of someone looking at her, and she wondered nervously if it was Lord Ren this time, sensing her distress. She was distracting him. She needed to do better. 

_The desert, the dune_ , she thought frantically, _the island, **anything,** just, calm down, don’t make a presence of yourself, stupid. _

There was a sudden loud scrape of a chair as Lord Cseenan stood to grab something from Lord Tomaxx, and Rey flinched violently, the datapad clattering loudly to the floor and drawing three pairs of eyes her way. 

“I’m sorry!” she stammered as she hastily bent to pick it up, and then she realized what she had just said, and in front of _whom,_ and it was between that realization and the second it took for her to look up and gasp in horror, that Cseenan Ren went from reaching across the table to _leaping over it_ , snarling and snapping and clawing, his eyes pitch black with bloodlust and rage, and in that moment Rey knew she had truly _fucked up._

* * *

  
X+*+X+X+X+X**VVV**X+X+X+X+*+X

* * *

When Cseenan Ren took his oath to serve under Kylo and be his apprentice, his Knight, the Barabel knew it was the only true-best path for him. 

He trusted Kylo with every fiber of his body, and how could he do any different? The human man had saved his scaly hide in a big-big way twice—once the very day they had first crossed paths, even after the one known as Tesarth had very strongly told him to _fuck off_ with his recruitment pitch, angry and nursing wounds from his lost fight in the circuit, his winnings gone as well. 

And twice when that fucking _ssksh_ Visser Ren had pushed him down the rocks and chopped his tail, going for his head next. 

True, Cseenan had first given oath to Snoke, but his loyalties were tied to the human, to the one who had first seen potential for _more_ in the Barabel who had made a living fighting in a pit like a fucking animal, his Force abilities just small tricks used back then only to sharpen his reflexes, make him slightly stronger than his opponents.

When the one who had lost against Tesarth had come back for back-stabbing revenge, and the tip of the slug’s vibro-blade had been mere inches from its intended target of the one soft-spot on the Barabel’s hard-scaled body, Kylo Ren had been there, his flaming blade shoved into their gut, saving him. Tesarth knew then that the human male’s offer had earned consideration, although it was the life-debt that spurned the Barabel on to accept it. 

When Visser was finally slashed, his smoky black influence gone from one blink to a next and finally freeing Cseenan from a year of torment, accepting Kylo as Master had been easy-wise. No thought. No questionings. And while Kylo’s promises of power and glory had been the first temptations, it wasn’t until the man-turned-Master had rewritten the Way of Ren and strictly instituted it that Cseenan found something he thought he would never find: true control. 

It wasn’t easy, no, no, and at first he had railed against the rules, snarled and fought with sneers and sarcasms galore, because Cseenan was a fighter, he was a hunter, a predator, a ruthless bone-crusher and flesh-ripper. He wasn’t no _monk,_ even if they were still fighting, still using the Dark Side of the Force. 

But he saw how Blue had taken to the changes, his powers growing, his control strengthening, and even though it went against everything Cseenan ever knew, “ _You’re a Barabel, Tesarth, you rip and bite and fight as a matter of course,” “Barabels are ruthless, bloody creatures, no good thing about ‘em really,” “A Barabel? No, no room for yer kind here. Get outta here afore I call a warden you scum,”_

Cseenan wanted it too—the control, the power. He wanted to prove he was more than a beast.

So against his nature, Cseenan gave the hard try, throwing himself into the new Way, failing and failing and _failing_ so much in the beginning that he thought he would have to rip his own throat out to end his shame. Kylo Ren did not deserve an apprentice that couldn’t match the man’s expectations. 

But Kylo believed in him, and Tomaxx believed in him, and with trial and error and mishaps and successes, Cseenan found some control over his instincts, even over his runner-thoughts, and with that came control over the powers that shook through him like thunder. He had thought he was deadly before, but now he was like the _Kakssah_ of the Old Lore—a god of Death, filled to the scales with the potential to manipulate the very life-energy of the galaxy. 

Sometimes Master and Tomaxx would say things—little nips and bites about his hindbrain, about his nature, but Cseenan knew it was just banter, just talk amongst comrades, not personal, not intended to wound.

But then he and Blue came back from their recon mission to find the little morsel of a girl, the slave, the little glow worm squirming in the dark. And things changed.

He had smelled her on Kylo, just a whiff, just a small marker of something as soon as he and Blue had descended the shuttle, but it wasn’t until they were in the lift, and it opened to their floor, and they walked by Master’s rooms, that the full scent filled his nostrils. And at the same instance, the intoxicating vibration that was her utter _fear_ scraped across his carefully constructed control and kicked the supports til they were wobbly and loose. 

Not a snack, no, and not a pet, and although he saw no difference between any of it with her, he tried. He tried.

And even though Cseenan had known bloodlust before, had hunted prey that begged him for mercy, had fixed on a scent or a Force feelie from someone and been near-obsessed with runner-thoughts of their blood and bone under his claws, between his teeth, he had never in his life felt such a whole-consuming thing as what he felt about the slave-girl on the day they were finally introduced and he saw her, standing there like a starved whelp, shaking and throwing out waves of scent that pierced straight into Cseenan’s brain, the scent of _prey._

He had tried to concentrate on other things, but the writhing _want_ beneath his skin was hard to ignore, and he did not want to disappoint his master or his brother-Knight, so he decided to give the hard-try to dispel the energy with training. In the training room. 

But.

He left his master and Tomaxx, and went first towards the training room, and in the lift he was hit with such a vivid thought it almost felt not his own, as if the Force had spoken to him directly through the pulsing galactic muck.

It had been a runner-thought unlike any other. A dark, smoky whisper: 

_‘Get the slave….snap her bones….tear her flesh….’_

And for all his control, for all the things his master and his Knight-brother had taught him, and even in spite of the No-Eating-Girl, She-Belongs-to-Master knowledge that was in his mind, Cseenan found himself unable to block out the whisperings. Unable to keep them from boiling him up, from making his senses spike, his Force abilities making everything ten times stronger even still. 

Whatever that voice did, it took what control Cseenan had fought so hard for, the control he had been proud of—even though pride was ego, and ego was forbidden—and cracked it, nearly shattered. 

In a near-blinding haze of bloodlust and instinct, he had gone for the girl, intent to consume her and her alluring glow, to absorb her into him as if her strange power would add to his own.

But master came, and master stopped him, and things became very, _very_ bad. Almost worst than the times with Visser, and Cseenan would rather throw himself in an airlock than suffer those visions and manipulations the way the fucking _ssksh_ would use on him.

And then with everything else, all of the no-dueling—which upended Cseenan, put a thorn in his side like a scale not molted right— the barbed insults— _“Beast, shorttail, unmuzzled”_ —, the punishment trainings, the persistent smoky whisperings, and the near-death by hands of the man he had sworn to serve and die for, the man who had seen so much potential in Cseenan but now seemed to only see him as a savage enemy, it was no wonder he was struggling like a fucking pup to gain back the control. 

He tried. Oh, he tried, for his master, for Tomaxx, and he thought it would be fine because soon they would be off the ship, soon they would be out of the cloud of scent and prey-fear that followed the pet into their sacred spaces. He tried to ignore her in the Situation Room, tried to use his teachings to keep his focus, to hone his mind. With master so close, and Tomaxx sending him secret signals of communication they used, it was doable, it was okay. 

Until that quivering glow-worm opened her fucking mouth, and said two of the three words that obliterated his control no matter what, words that not even his master tried to train him to ignore. It was written in his blood, in his soul—there was no finding control against the rage that _‘I’m sorry’_ erupted inside him. The whole galaxy knew of it.

“I’m sorry!” The pet stammered, and Cseenan heard a roaring in his ears, his vision sharpening, his muscles bunching and tensing and moving him before he even needed to think about it, because beneath all the control, beneath all the trainings and teachings, beneath the Way of Ren, 

Cseenan was still a Barabel, and that was something that apparently no amount of meditation, or training, or hope for something _more,_ could ever change.

* * *

  
Oo*+X+X+X**OOO**X+X+X+*oO

* * *

  
Rey screamed this time as the Barabel Knight threw himself across the table to land ungracefully on the other side. He quickly righted himself, his claws scratching the durasteel floor as he scrabbled up, reaching for the girl, but Lord Tomaxx leapt from his seat to grab the Barabel’s leg and tackled him to the floor again. 

Lord Cseenan was close enough to get a clawed hand on one of her boots, pulling her from her perch on the chair with a wet snarl. She screamed again and kicked at his face with her other leg, landing a solid blow that wrenched his head back, but then his other hand grabbed the ankle, the claws digging into the leather, puncturing it, and from the sharp pain she knew they were piercing her skin. He managed to pull her from the chair in spite of her attempt to grip the arm rests to keep her up, a vicious shine to his eyes and dripping teeth.

She thought he would tear into her legs that were now trapped beneath him, but he was pulled back the same way he had in the corridor. The only problem was she was attached this time, her body sliding against the floor by his claws until they were dislodged by a kick from Lord Tomaxx. She hit against the leg of the table, her breath knocked from her, and she barely got a wheeze in when Lord Tomaxx wrenched her up, pulling her away as the Barabel scrabbled against the floor, still snarling, body tensing to pounce again. He was thrown against the wall before he could, and Lord Ren was standing with an arm outstretched. 

Lord Tomaxx pulled her back against his front, and they stumbled back away to the other wall. Her whole body slithered with _wrong, bad, no, don’t touch_ , and she arched away from him, pushing on the arm wrapped around her middle, trying to put distance between their bodies with a broken whine. He seemed to understand she was objecting and released her, pushing her behind him instead as he took a defensive stance in front of her, his lightsaber in hand and ignited. 

It all happened within the span of twenty seconds, but the damage was done. Rey had caused such a scene to happen with her thoughtlessness. And now she was sure Lord Ren would kill the Barabel, his hand around the Knight’s throat, holding him against the wall. He must be using the Force as well, because it looked like Lord Cseenan couldn’t move his arms or legs, as much as he was trying to.

“No more waiting, we are dueling NOW,” Lord Ren bellowed, enunciated with a hard shove. 

Lord Cseenan snarled and snapped his teeth, his eyes black as night, and Rey wasn’t sure he was in a place of mind to be able to even understand spoken word. 

Her master tightened his grip, “Cseenan Ren, _stand down,_ ” but the Barabel only thrashed more.

Lord Ren growled, barking, “FUCK,” and then his other hand came up, palm facing the Knight, almost touching his snout.

His voice was low this time, something hypnotic to the sound of it, and Rey heard Lord Tomaxx take in a sharp breath while Cseenan stilled.

“Cseenan Ren, you will calm yourself and go down to the training room.” 

The Knight twitched, teeth bared, and Lord Ren repeated himself, tone slightly harder, 

“You will go down to the training room, _now.”_

Lord Cseenan panted for a few breaths, his maw working, eyes blinking color, and then his raspy voice uttered,

“I…will go down…to the training room now.”

Rey watched in shocked awe as the Knight’s countenance slackened, and Lord Ren released him with cautious movements. Lord Tomaxx moved in front of Rey, blocking her sight, blocking her _from_ sight as well, and she heard the thick door hum open, steps echoing out. 

“Tomaxx go with him,” her master said. “Make sure he actually gets there. He might fight the influence.”

“Master, you cannot—“

He rounded on him, roaring, “I CANNOT _WHAT?”_

The apprentice hesitated a breath before turning off his lightsaber.

“Nothing, Master,” he intoned quietly, a tense coldness about him as he moved to follow the Barabel. 

Rey took in a deep, shuddering breath once he was gone, her arms against her chest like a shield, her legs shaking so badly beneath her she wondered if they would be able to hold her up any longer. 

Lord Ren was partly turned away, his whole frame rigid, fists flexing and creaking at his sides. 

Rey knew she shouldn’t cower, there was no avoiding his anger. Making him come to her would just make it worse, so she straightened from her crumpled position, and with head bowed she approached her master. 

“Lord Ren,” she croaked, “I’m sor—“ Her mouth was covered by a large hand, her head and body pushed against the wall hard enough to bring stars to her eyes. 

His mask filled her vision, black visor, black robes, oppressively dark, oppressively _furious._

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” he snarled, fingers pressing into her face, making her jaw ache. “Not. A fucking. _sound._ Do you understand me?”

Rey nodded quickly, the air whistling through her nose as she tried to breathe around the vice. 

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

He continued, his voice frigid steel.

“Then I’m going to tell you exactly what will happen from now. Are you listening to me?”

She nodded again. His hand gave a small squeeze.

_“Good._ We are going down to the training room. I am going to duel Cseenan. You will stay near Tomaxx and I better not hear a fucking sound or sense a fucking thing from you until it is done. When it is done, we are going back to my rooms and I will deal with you then.”

Rey’s heart dropped, trepidation and foreboding curling her stomach. There was going to be so much pain later, she just knew it. So much pain.

He released her but did not step back, and so she stayed pressed against the wall, eyes on his broad chest as it moved with his deep breathing. 

She felt a tingle in her arm and looked up in alarm, which set off another wave of freezing anger.

“Do NOT _look at me like that!_ ” He shouted, the sound crackling, and he threw out his hand. Rey flinched violently with a choked-off whine but he wasn’t using his powers on her, no, his fingers flexed straight, and then suddenly clawed as if crushing the air, and Rey watched with astonished horror as the chair she had been sitting in groaned and creaked and then _crumpled,_ like cheap flimsteel. 

“I am not so weak as to require your _pity,_ Girl,” he spat, dropping his arm.

Rey tore her eyes away from the ruined metal and shook beneath his black gaze, pinned to the wall by it and by the absolute fear and shame that wracked her small frame. 

“Now let’s go,” he growled, finally stepping away, “before something else goes wrong.”

He moved to the door and Rey staggered after him, her legs heavy and warm and prickling, her head light and dizzy, her heart pounding. She had no idea how the duel would go, she had no idea if her master was well enough to fight, or what would happen afterwards. If he lost she decided she would give herself up to the Barabel. 

It seemed it was the only way to truly make things right at this point.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, finally some Cseenan POV. Was it as you imagined?
> 
> Also, funny how fear makes some people tremble and some people angry.
> 
> Aaaaaaand I know that this scene is really serious and dark, but I could not help but draw another Meme because this one makes me cry laughing and I think we could use a little laughter:
> 
> Also!!! I have received more amazing fanart!!! 😍😁✨❤️🤩❤️😭❤️😭 [Little_Miss_Phantom](https://www.instagram.com/little_miss_phantom/) on Instagram drew this fantastic piece, and has a ton of other Reylo, Star Wars, Hamilton (!!!!!!), and other art, so please check them out!! 
> 
> I am seriously so blow away by this ❤️😭❤️😭 thankyousomuchhh
> 
> .
> 
> Now to move onto some more serious house cleaning matters. 
> 
> I went back and forth with myself about whether I would mention the kerfuffle that occurred in the comments last chapter, but while I do not want to seem like I'm stirring the pot, due to the subject of the comments I did not want to seem like I was going to sweep it under the rug and forget about it.  
> TL;DR- Someone voiced an unhappy opinion and I responded more sharply than I needed to. Another person jumped in to defend the first, and to voice their overall frustrations with me and my story, and I tried to do my best to listen and respond as well as I could. There may be catharsis for some of you in what the commentor wrote, because maybe some of you share in her frustrations. I hope that my Very Long reply might help you understand more about myself and about why I am writing this story the way I am.  
> Please don't reply to anyone but myself there if you feel the need to say anything. I haven't needed to do it yet but I will remove comments if I feel like they're too volatile. 
> 
> Needless to say, last week was A Week™️. In addition to the Comment, I was also dealing with family problems (made much more frustrating by my being on the other side of the planet), and l had to teach at six schools instead of my usual four. All kinds of exhaustion. Somehow still managed to get chapters 59 and 60 done and ready for editing tho. And I drew a picture.
> 
> I need a vacation 😵😂🥴
> 
> Next chapter: The duel finally happens 🙌✨  
> Posting date: Sunday, 🎃ctober 11th, at 9PM Japan time.
> 
> One last thing: if anyone wants to chat, or send me fanart, or memes, or whatever, I made an email, so please feel free to message me at veggieheist.art@gmail.com . ✌️✨


	59. The Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No special warnings :)

* * *

The training room was silently roaring with invisible tension as Kylo squared up against Cseenan, his saber plasma crackling deeply as he brought it in a lazy arc with a roll of his wrist. 

The Barabel had shaken off the Force Influence Kylo had used on him—a sickening act against his own brethren that required a duel all on its own, but he had seen no other alternative—and was now more furious than Kylo had ever seen him. Furious and outraged. Kylo didn’t blame him, but he also knew it had been the only thing keeping the Knight from tearing apart the Situation Room—and Girl.

Kylo glanced at the slave, remembering her scream, her small body dragged from the chair, and felt another stab of _wariness_ that quickly folded into anger again. Losing her to Cseenan had been so close this time. _Too_ close. How could she be so stupid? How could she say something so dangerous near him, when she knows he is out for her blood?

Bringing her to the training room was risky as well, especially with Cseenan’s blood up like this. But Kylo knew Tomaxx would do everything in his power to keep her out of harm’s way again if anything happened, even if the Knight was also upset at him for using Influence on the Barabel. 

But Kylo wanted Girl to be there, to see him. To see with her own eyes that he was not weak, he did not need saving, he did not need her pitiful glances of concern. 

Kylo was Master of the Knights of Ren for a reason. And she would see now what that meant.

* * *

  
~~OOOOO~*~OOOOO~~

* * *

The infamous training room was not quite what Rey had imagined it to be, and yet as she looked around she realized it was exactly how she should have expected. 

She had thought there would be dark instruments of torture, bloodied grimy things, items of dark magic and the like. But she quickly corrected herself with reproach, because of course the training room would be as pristine and stark as Lord Ren’s rooms. There were equipment and dangerous-looking weapons for sure, but they were neatly organized on tables and along the walls. And there was evidence the room had been used as intended by the scuffs and scorch marks on the walls, floor, and ceiling, but other than that it was clean and orderly. 

She was sat on a bench by a table, the other side of which had a wall of weapons that looked half for practice and half very much _not_ for practice— Swords and spiky things and bludgeoning tools. Her eyes lingered on the different staffs, remembering the one she’d constructed on Jakku as a means to keep away thieves at Troog’s shop. Her hands itched to pick one up, to swing it around and see if she was able to perform some of the moves she had taught herself. 

But that was not for now. Maybe not ever, although a part of her hoped her master would give her access to them someday. If he and the Knights were going on dangerous missions, she should be allowed to arm herself. 

Lord Tomaxx sat down on the bench an arms length away, drawing Rey back to the immediate, tense situation. Lords Ren and Cseenan were getting into position in the middle of the large room, both of their lightsabers ignited, filling the room with the sound of ripping flames and humming plasma. 

Rey realized Lord Ren’s saber was much more jagged than the Barabel’s. In fact, Lord Tomaxx’s blade had also been smooth. It seemed fitting that her master would have a weapon as angry and volatile as himself, but she wondered why it was so different.

“It was very foolish of you to say what you did,” Lord Tomaxx murmured, making Rey jolt. “Barabels do not react well to apologies.”

_I know that_ , Rey wanted to say, scowling, _I wasn’t born yesterday_. But she had been told to be silent, and such words were disrespectful besides. She was afraid he would go at her mind again, so she made sure to be in good posture this time. Still, though, she felt ill sitting so closely to the Knight and tried to nonchalantly move as far from him as the bench would allow.

Lord Ren spoke, drawing their attention, his voice hard with anger as he addressed the Knight standing before him, 

“Cseenan Ren, you have attacked my slave twice now, and even though I rejected your challenge the first time—,” Rey blinked, slightly aghast. He had _rejected_ a Barabel’s challenge to duel? “—and our earlier one was halted, I am accepting your challenge again now. There is also the matter of the duel I offered for my actions and offenses against you.” 

Again Rey found herself surprised. What _happened?_

“Let us fight now, and settle the matters once and for all.” 

Lord Cseenan brought his saber up, then roared and charged in reply, and Rey forgot about the apprentice on the bench, forgot about the curious things around the room. 

All she had attention for was the two males in the center, and if Rey had any idea about how deadly they were before, now she knew _exactly_ what kind of warriors they actually were.

And now she knew why Lord Ren was Master. 

There was a vicious elegance to the way he fought, power in every swing and parry, ruthless and merciless with his kicks and jabs. Rey had not spent much time wondering about his physique, but now she remembered the solidness of his arms and chest the times she had held or been held to them, and realized that beneath his monkish robes and layers he must be hiding more than scars and ugliness. He was capable of crushing metal with his mind, but she knew that he could probably do it with his bare hands as well seeing him fight now like this, and remembering the dents in the wall of his ‘fresher. 

Lord Cseenan gave as good as he got too, snarling and snapping, far more light on his feet and graceful than Rey had thought he would be. Her heart was thundering, her body still shaking from the attack she had suffered, but she realized she was lucky she was alive at all. Cseenan Ren was no amateur either. 

Rey gasped when he leapt impossibly high out of the way of Lord Ren’s slashes, and could not believe her eyes when the master did something similar, leaping backwards in a somersault arc, landing heavily in a crouch several speederlengths away. They both panted, and Rey found herself catching her own breath as well. There was no way Lord Ren was human. Not if he could do that. 

As she sat watching with bated breath, the tingling in her legs gave way to stinging, and then to throbbing, and Rey had the dawning realization that her earlier quick assessment of her injuries may have been wrong. She looked down at where her hands gripped her legs just above the knees, and she pulled them away slowly, turning her palms upward.

Blood.

She was bleeding. 

Lord Cseenan had caught her in his claws in the Situation Room, and only now was she beginning to feel it. She pulled at the baggy and bunched fabric of her black pants with trembling fingers. They sported several ripped holes above the knees, and through them she could see scratches. She could see gouges. 

Rey let out a shuddering breath, letting the fabric bunch again to hide the tears and placing her hands back over them, peering at Lord Tomaxx in her peripherals, hoping that he hadn’t noticed. Then her attention snapped to her master, and her chest constricted, because what if he felt it and was distracted? What if her pain caused him to lose?

But he did not seem distracted. In fact, he seemed more focused than the Barabel, who’s black gaze found Rey, his nostrils flaring. 

She froze, her stomach dropping. 

_Oh, kriff._

* * *

~~OOO~*~OOO~~

* * *

Kylo’s heart pounded in his chest, the blood pumping through his body as he stood from his crouch. His senses were on hyper alert, his body prickling from sweat and dark energy. 

Cseenan was fighting well, his outrage lending him more power, but he wasn’t letting it make him too sloppy. There had been two times Kylo had caught him in a mistaken opening, and he got in a small cut or two that burned holes in the Barabel’s robes and scorched his hard scale plating, singed the softer skin near it. But the Barabel had quickly corrected himself after, pushing Kylo into a vulnerable position himself and almost getting the upper hand. 

It was impressive, and in any other circumstance Kylo would be proud, would give him praise. 

But this was not the time, and he could not let himself get distracted with being teacher-Kylo.

It seemed Cseenan was the one losing focus now though, his dark gaze locked onto where Girl was sitting by Tomaxx. His teeth glistened as his maw opened slightly, the way he does when scenting.

Kylo gripped his saber in both hands and lunged forward with a growl, swiping at the Knight with renewed vigor, not giving him a chance to make a move in her direction. Cseenan snapped to attention, blocking him, and they delved back into the quick hit-and-parry, sabers crashing loudly in the room.

Being blocked from his prey only aggravated Cseenan more, though. He was going into a frenzy the likes of which Kylo usually only ever saw when the Barabel was elbow deep in an enemy’s blood. Kylo knew Cseenan was at the whims of his basic nature, but he hadn’t seen this kind of lack of control from him in years. It was alarming how much Girl was affecting him.

Would this duel be enough to fix it? 

Kylo shook the thought away. It _had_ to. 

He only just managed to jump out of the way of Cseenan’s slash and right himself to block the next one when he felt his shoulder tingle in a telltale sign. The muscle cramped in the next second, and he knew he would not be able to lift his saber high enough to keep Cseenan’s attack from cutting him through. 

Thinking quickly, Kylo switched hands, but the split second it took to do so still left him vulnerable. He swiftly dropped to a knee, affording him enough time to lift his saber and block the blow that surely would have cut him from neck to hip. 

His right arm was reduced to deadweight as the shoulder continued to spasm, and from his vantage he could see Girl clutching her own, a fearful expression on her pale face. 

_Kriffing fuck_. There was no denying anymore that she could sense his pains. No ignoring it either. They needed to _talk._

_CRASHH,_ Cseenan’s saber came down again, and again, and again, his vicious roar as he gave his all against Kylo’s raised block almost drowning out the din. He knew his arm was going to give way soon if he didn’t do something to get himself out from under this. So, using the Force as an aid, Kylo pushed back against Cseenan’s saber on the next hit, shoving him back enough for the master to stand. 

But Cseenan had evidently been learning a few things from Tomaxx, because he used the inertia of Kylo’s shove to twist and swing his leg around, landing a very solid kick to the man’s torso. 

Kylo staggered back, breathless, the shock from his chest wound seizing him and allowing Cseenan to chop down viciously enough to knock Kylo’s saber from his hand. 

From there it was a game of speed and agility on Kylo’s part having been made weaponless, jumping and dodging out of the way of Cseenan’s roaring swings, just barely managing to avoid getting cut, although not fast enough to avoid the slicing off of a few inches of the bottom of his robes. 

A swing came down as Kylo’s leg cramped, and in a split second before it bisected him from crown to collarbone, he threw up his hands, stopping it with the Force. The Barabel’s eyes were pitch black and murderous as they stared him down, more than any other time Kylo had dueled him. 

There was a gasp from the sidelines, and Cseenan’s head swung towards the bench and its inhabitants, prompting him to pull back his saber, his gait pivoting and stalking towards it. Kylo saw Tomaxx stand stiffly, his hand on his own saber. 

This was _not_ normal. Cseenan was never so distracted during a duel, never switched targets away from the one involved in the challenge. 

Kylo called his saber to himself and ran after the Barabel, shouting, “CSEENAN,” hoping to grab the Knight’s attention back, but in another show of out-of-normal fashion, Cseenan threw out a clawed hand at Kylo and Force-pushed him back with a wet snarl. 

It had been a sort of unofficial rule that they would never use the Force on each other in a duel, only using it to accent one’s own brute strength and combat skill. That Cseenan would use it now to make Kylo stumble back meant it was fair game for this time. 

Kylo used his rushing adrenaline to pull on the Force and swipe Cseenan’s legs out from under him, dragging him away from his intended path and back towards the master. 

The Knight’s claws shrieked against the durasteel floor as his hand tried to catch and stop himself, the other actually dropping his saber to do the same, but when he realized it was a moot point he turned and used the momentum of his being dragged to leap up to his feet and launch himself at Kylo instead. 

Kylo for his part did not want to _actually_ run Cseenan through with his lightsaber, so he turned at the last second, allowing the Barabel to snag his claws in the back of Kylo’s robes. He jerked from the force of it, losing his balance and falling almost on top of the Knight, who’s toothy mouth was now _much too close_ to Kylo’s head, helmeted though it was. 

The weight of him landing on Cseenan had evidently knocked the breath from him momentarily, and Kylo was able to jab him with his elbow and dislodged his claws as he rolled out of the dangerous grasp. 

Kylo was up on his feet quickly, Cseenan rising to a crouch, his black eyes once again zeroing in on the populated wall behind Kylo, and the man felt his blood boil. He brought his saber up and there was a sharp jolt in the Force from Tomaxx, but Kylo did not intend to kill his Knight. He extinguished his saber as he swung it through, hitting Cseenan near the soft spot above the hinge of his jaw _hard._ The Barabel’s head snapped to the side, blood and saliva flying, and he fell back down to a more prone position. 

Kylo reignited his saber and had the tip pointed inches away from Cseenan’s chest as the Knight came out of his daze.

“Do you yield?” Kylo asked, his voice hoarse through his heavy breathing.

Cseenan panted, the air wheezing through his throat. There was a sudden dark glint in his eye, as if he would try to attack again in spite of his precarious position, but he blinked and it disappeared, replaced with amber and sinking defeat. 

He finally nodded, rasping,

“I yield.”

A tension released from Kylo’s chest, the relief making him almost lightheaded. 

He nodded. “Then it’s done. Let the matters be settled now.”

He stepped back, extinguishing his saber, and then held out a hand. 

Cseenan eyed it and stiffly turned his head away, but Kylo held firm. 

“Come, Cseenan,” he prompted in a low tone. “I will help tend to your wounds.”

“I can tend them myself.”

“I know you can, but I want to help.”

Cseenan’s fist tightened. “I don’t need your pity, Master,” he growled. “I will tend them myself.”

Kylo relaxed his arm and stood straight. The Knight was hurt in more ways than just physically. This wasn’t the first time he and Cseenan had dueled, and this wasn’t the first time the Knight had lost. But that did not mean his pride was any less damaged by his defeat. 

As much as Kylo wanted to finish smoothing things over with him, this now was not going to help. The rejection stung, but he would not begrudge Cseenan the want to lick his wounds in solitude.

_He should not be alone, though._  
  
Kylo turned to the other Knight.

“Tomaxx.”

The Chiss wordlessly came to them, and again he felt a sting as Cseenan allowed the Knight to pull him up without a fight. 

“Help him, and report to me after.”

“Yes, Master,” the Chiss replied quietly, and it was only from having spent years with him that Kylo was able to detect the cold stiffness in the words. Tomaxx was not happy with him. Another thing to fix, but for later. 

It was time to settle other matters now.

Kylo looked to Girl, who sat on the bench with a sallow sheen to her face, the air a static buzz of anxiety around her. Something kept flashing through it, but she was doing her damndest to smother her thoughts. 

Not only overwhelmed by what she had just witnessed, Girl was probably terrified of what he was going to do to her from now, but Kylo found himself unenthusiastic about reprimanding her for what happened in the Situation Room. 

He was just tired now. Exhausted, really. The duel had finally happened, the offenses he and Cseenan had committed against each other were now officially rectified, and the effects of it no longer weighing so heavily on his mind anymore made him want to bask in this moment of no-conflict. 

Well. Much-less-conflict.

Kylo’s anger was burnt to ash, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to fan it into flames to deal with the slave. He probably shouldn’t have handled her so roughly in the Situation Room either, but her thoughtlessness had almost cost her her life, _again._

Something must be done. She needed to learn mistakes had consequences here. 

_Perhaps she can just kneel and think about her stupidity for a couple hours,_ he thought with a scowl.

He beckoned her with his head and she stood slowly with a pinched expression, stiffly walking towards him, head downcast but eyes flickering towards the Barabel nervously. 

Cseenan’s eyes started going black again as he tracked her, but abruptly closed, his body shuddering as he seemed to force himself to turn away, a clawed hand grasping Tomaxx’s arm in what looked like a punishing grip. An anchor.

Kylo frowned and put himself between Girl and Cseenan, and then without a word he began leading her towards the door by a hand on her shoulder, heading for the lift. His body was humming from the fight, his knees tingling strangely, sweat beading and dripping into his eye beneath his mask.

The duel had been fought, he had won, the matters were officially settled now. But it felt like a hollow victory. 

There was more that needed to be done to fix the rift that had been opened between himself and Cseenan, and while he knew it would only take time, a small part of him worried if things would ever be alright again. The way the Barabel had fought was aberrant, and it was especially concerning how distracted he had been by the girl. 

_“Things will never return to how they used to be,”_ Kylo had told Tomaxx. _“All we can do is adapt to the new normal.”_  
  
Was this constant conflict between himself and his Knights over the slave the new normal he wanted to get used to?

* * *

  
~~~O~*~O~~~

* * *

Rey trembled in the lift as it ascended, gripping her hands tightly at her middle, trying to breathe deeply through the lightheadedness and focus on anything else besides the pain in her legs. 

And oh, there was pain. 

“When we get to the rooms you will kneel until I tell you to get up,” Lord Ren told her, and she nodded, but the idea of putting weight on her knees like that while there was blood soaking her pantlegs was enough to get her desperately thinking of a way out of it.

She had barely been able to cover her limp when her master had beckoned her to follow him, and as they exited the lift and walked down the corridor to his rooms, she a shadow at his elbow, Rey was unable to stop it. 

She knew she needed to tell him that she needed to go to the medbay. She had no idea how bad the scratches were, but this amount of pain did not bode well. He would be angry at the nuisance and probably would just have them cover the wounds with gauze, sans bacta. The slow healing would teach her to not make mistakes around Barabels anymore.

But first she needed to tell him, which meant breaking the silence he had commanded. And there was only one possible place she could think of that might maybe afford her a word without too badly of a punishment. 

She needed to sit at the Table. 

As soon as they entered the rooms, instead of kneeling she quickened her pace, moving out of arms reach—as if that would keep him from stopping her—and limping quickly towards his bedroom.

“Where are you going? Stop,” he ordered, and Rey’s heart pounded. She paused only for a moment and then kept going. _Shitshitshitshitshit—_

_“Girl,”_ he said more harshly, his heavy steps following her. “Why are you—“

She stumbled the last couple feet and all but fell into her seat, her shaking hands making sweaty prints on the tabletop as she looked up at where he stood stiffly fuming in the doorway.

“Lord Ren,” she rasped, “This slave—“ she winced, pushing through her fearful conditioning, knowing it had the potential to make things worse, “—I…I know I’m supposed to be silent, Sir, and I know you told me to kneel, but I—I have to tell you that I’m bleeding and I think I need a medic.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's gonna happen I wonder..... 👁👄👁  
> Sorry for this slightly shorter chapter. Next chapter will make up for it, I promise 👀✨
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented last chapter in a show of support for this story. I wasn't expecting such a turn out to be honest 😳 It was such a wonderfully pleasant surprise! ❤️ I love writing this fic and I was going to keep writing it like normal even if no one said anything, but it is hugely validating to hear from so many people who enjoy it for what it is, and it is certainly motivating to try and write faster.  
> So, thank you. Some of your comments had me tearing up because they were so moving ❤️😭❤️😭 
> 
> Next chapter: Rey's wounds are tended to...  
> Posting date: Sunday, 🎃ctober 18th, 9PM Japan time


	60. A Strange Kind of Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings.  
> ✨Enjoy ✨  
> 👁👄👁

* * *

_“—I…I know I’m supposed to be silent, Sir, and I know you told me to kneel, but I—I have to tell you that I’m bleeding and I think I need a medic.”_

Lord Ren stayed still in the doorway, his frame as rigid as ever, but the fuming quality of his cold aura shifted to one of alarm.

“You’re _bleeding?_ Where?”

“My legs, Sir,” Rey told him, a tremor in her voice. “I was cut on Lord Cseenan’s claws in the secret room.”

“You said you weren’t hurt,” he accused gruffly as he came closer.

Rey cowered in her seat, pleaded with her face, with her voice, “I know, Sir, please, I didn’t realize it, I must have been in shock.” 

“You’re still in shock,” he grumbled. “You’re sweating and shaking.” He stopped a foot away, and then, “Show me.”

Rey turned in her seat, her trembling hands pulling at the fabric of her pants to show where it was ripped, the black of it now even more dark and slightly shiny from her blood, the wounds beneath only just visible.

She saw him take in a sharp breath, and then he stepped closer, leaning to see. “I thought I sensed something but….” He pulled back.

“Who knows what kind of diseases Cseenan has under his claws,” he growled, standing straight. “These need to be disinfected immediately. Pants off.” 

“What?” Rey squeaked, looking up with a jolt.

Lord Ren had already started moving towards the cabinets near the laundry chute.

“Take your pants off. We’re not going to the medbay for this,” he told her, voice sharp. “They don’t need anymore reason to believe you’re being passed around us like a toy.”

She stayed frozen, heart hammering, her face hot.

He looked over his shoulder and made an impatient motion with his hand. “Quickly now.”

Realizing there was no getting around it without incurring Lord Ren’s wrath, and that he seemed to be purposefully taking his time at the cabinet so as to give her the illusion of privacy, Rey nodded weakly, pulling off her boots with a wince, and then stood and began to undo her belt, knowing it would be easier without it getting in the way. Her hands shook as she reached up beneath her jacket to undo the clips holding her pants closed, and then pulled them down, being careful around the cuts. 

_He’s not a pervert,_ she thought to herself, _he’s being generous, letting you tend to the cuts, stop being stupid, you have no right to feel ashamed, your body doesn’t belong to you—_

Lord Ren kept his back turned, speaking lowly,

“Lay them over your lap after you sit. I know it’s cold in here.”

Rey did as commanded with no small amount of relief, gasping as her bottom and the back of her thighs touched down on the chair. It was still quite cold, even after she had been sitting on it. The cold seeped through her underwear too, and goosebumps erupted across her skin, an involuntary shudder passing through her as she placed her still-warm pants across her lap. 

Like with the pelvic exam she knew she had no dignity to preserve, and she was sure covering the top half of her thighs was most likely for Lord Ren’s sensibilities. But once again Rey found herself appreciating his piety, although she secretly wished that it extended into ‘no violence.’ How different her life as his slave would be then.

He turned back once she was situated, moving forward to place various medical supplies on the table, freezing for a moment when he saw the extent of the injuries. 

Rey was no stranger to blood, but even she was woozy and fighting nausea looking at them. Both legs sported five bleeding gashes above the knees about three inches in length, but the left leg was particularly deep where Lord Cseenan’s thumb had dug into the inner side. 

“Kriffing fuck,” Lord Ren mumbled, and went back to the cabinet for more supplies.  
  
“I don’t have pain controllers,” he told her coming back, almost apologetic. “You’ll have to bear with it.”  
  
Rey merely nodded, accepting the pain as a penance. She started reaching for the gauze but Lord Ren blocked her.

“No,” he told her sharply, “I’m doing it.” 

Her brow furrowed and again she nodded, pulling back quickly, uncertain but obedient.

Once the supplies were deposited, he brought his seat around to face her, sat, and bent to get a closer look, his gloved fingers probing around the deepest cuts, small stings of pain from the contact making Rey wince.

He seemed to notice his gloves for a long moment then, and stood again, moving to his closet. Rey frowned, and then blinked in shock at the flash of pale skin exposed as he removed the black leather, putting them on a shelf. She continued to lose the ability to breathe as he folded the long sleeves of his ribbed shirt back to around his wrists, went to the ‘fresher to use the sink to wash his hands, doused them with disinfectant, uncaring of the liquid dripping on the floor, and then returned to his seat.

Rey tried not to stare, but her mind churned with the image of pale skin before her. There were lines from where the seams of the gloves had made an imprint, and his palms and knuckles were slightly reddened—probably from his fight. But they looked surprisingly…soft.

What kind of humanoids had pale skin? Humans, of course, but also a numerous other species. His nails were neatly trimmed, no hint of claw or scale or hair, so that ruled out some. He could be human but, she wasn’t convinced he was, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be something completely otherworldly. He was too extraordinary.

He sat for a moment, a slight tremble to his fingers and an unease tinting the air that made Rey surreptitiously look up at him in slight concern, then back down again for fear of making him mad. But the shakes disappeared after he clenched his hands into fists, relaxing after a breath or two, and the unease faded as well. 

From there Lord Ren stalwartly and silently gathered some gauze from the table and then began to methodically clean away the blood from around the wound site. He was brisk and efficient, a warrior used to doing such triage, but it was painful. Rey wanted to tell him she could do it herself, but she was too enraptured by the fact that he was doing it at all.

Without gloves.

He began to disinfect the wounds next, glancing up once when Rey hissed from the sting of it. She tried to hold herself still, to breathe through the pain, but when he applied the solution to the deepest one she couldn’t stop the strangled sound that pierced the silence.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, fearfully looking at her master. She knew they were at the Table, but she still wasn’t sure that he _wasn’t_ going to be angry that she broke his command to be soundless. 

He looked up, pausing for a tense moment, and then stiffly, but slightly more gently, resumed his ministrations. His voice was low and quiet when he spoke,

“You don’t have to be silent.”

Relieved he wasn’t going to reprimand her, Rey released her mouth with a shaky exhale. 

They remained in slightly less tense quietude until Lord Ren said, “I told you not to use that ‘this slave’ nonsense anymore.”

Rey winced. “S-s—“ _sorry,_ she wanted to say, but that word had gotten her into too much trouble lately. She aborted it, switching to something else.

“S-sometimes it comes out like that,” she lamented hoarsely. “I don’t mean to do it.”

“A habit?” He asked, taking up the bacta supplies and leaning back over again to apply them to the smaller cuts. “Did Troog make you speak like that?”

Rey’s heart thundered for a different reason as she shook her head with a small, “no.” 

“Nybian, then? Although from what little you’ve said of her I cannot imagine she would make you speak in that way.”

“Not Nybian,” Rey said, more strength to her voice. “She would never. She tried to get me to stop.”

“Then it was the master before her?” 

She nodded, her stomach clenching, a cold sweat breaking out unrelated to her current injuries. _Please, please don’t make me talk about Vins. Please. I don’t want to talk about her, I don’t want to, Please—_

Lord Ren froze, his head tilting slightly, the air tense between them as he thought. And then he continued, murmuring,

“I suppose it’s not important.”

Rey let out a shaky breath, once again fighting tears. She had never been so glad her thoughts were loud, but still couldn’t help being embarrassed about it. 

“I do not like you speaking that way,” Lord Ren repeated, his words taking on a gruffly ponderous tone. “But…if it is something ingrained that happens when you cannot help it...then I suppose it is my responsibility to make sure I do not put you into the mindset to cause such speech to happen in the first place.”

Rey blinked.

“It shouldn’t be your responsibility, Sir. I should be better.”

He looked up, voice hard like ice. “It _is_ my responsibility. _I_ am the master.”

Rey bit the inside of her lip and shrank in her seat, not wanting to argue with such a statement. 

After a moment Lord Ren continued his work, the chill in the air subsiding, and Rey watched him intently. As much as she was trying not to stare, her gaze still caught on his pale hands.

“When we were in the Situation Room,” he pondered lowly, making her flinch and quickly look away, “Something frightened you right before you dropped the datapad. What was it?”

Once again Rey’s heartbeat was a flighty tempo in her chest. She did not want to tell her master what Lord Tomaxx had done in case the Knight was reprimanded for it, because then she would absolutely be targeted even more by him. The thought of the retaliation was enough to make her lightheaded. 

But she couldn’t lie to Lord Ren. 

She wet her lips and swallowed thickly, her mind racing for the right words to explain what happened without putting her in a bad place with either Master or Knight. 

“I was…I was sitting improperly,” she began, contrite. “It was disrespectful. I should have known better. And…Lord Tomaxx graciously sought to. _..correct_ my posture in a way so as to not bring too much attention to it.” Her voice lowered, her face heating with shame. “But I am frightened of him. Everything he does…” _sickens me._

“You are frightened of all of us,” Lord Ren murmured. A statement, not a question, but Rey gave the tiniest of nods anyways.

“And in your fear, you forgot a Barabel was present. You fell back on your incessant need to apologize for everything. And so you said ‘sorry’.”

She nodded again, grimacing.

“Hm,” he hummed, like a grumble. “I suppose it was only a matter of time, then.”

He resumed the doctoring after a long moment, his aura abuzz with thoughts, and Rey tried to smother the guilty, self-ridiculing ones in her own mind.

She curled her toes against the cold floor, letting herself get lost watching his bare hands methodically apply the bacta solution with gauze, her heartbeat and emotions settling some as the quiet went on. He paused again to check that he had gotten all of the smaller scratches, and then spoke, breaking her mesmerization.

“I have told you before, but anger and hate are cornerstones for how we gain power in the Force,” he said. “They are emotions that come easily to me, and always have. But I have always tried to withhold them when dealing with my Knights, out of respect, and to embolden their trust in me. Loyalty should not be bought with fear.”

He dropped the used gauze uncaringly by his boot, and then opened a packet from the table that contained several stiff sheets of what looked like woven metallic flimsi. 

“Medigraft,” he answered quietly at her questioning look. “It will help the worst ones heal quicker, with less scarring.” 

He took a piece of medigraft, cut it down to the right size and shape with a pair of small shears, and, after wiping the welling ooze of blood away, carefully began applying it to the deepest cuts with a low, “Hold still. This will hurt.”

As if she had been moving at all since he had started. But the medigraft _burned_ as soon as it touched the open wound, and Rey had to grip the pants in her lap and grit her teeth, hissing and choking off a whine, tensing her muscles to keep herself still.

The pain was _excruciating,_ and she found herself trying to push his hand away with a cry, even though the medigraft was already in place and dissolving. Lord Ren caught her hands in his strong grip with a low, “No, leave it,” and a wave of warm electric goosebumps rushed up her arms from the skin contact, eliciting a gasp from her.

Lord Ren seemed to stiffen as well, his grip tightening slightly.

What followed felt to Rey like a suspended moment of pulsing energy, electric and warm, bordering on nostalgic or deja vu-ish. A familiarity without knowing how or why. It was calming, in a way. Peaceful. 

But the feeling lasted all of five seconds before the agony of the medigraft seemingly melting into her body overwhelmed everything, and Rey was choking off another cry of pain through her gritted teeth, trying to wrench her hands back, desperate to stop the torture. 

“It _burns!_ It hurts, Sir, _please,”_ she begged, _“Please_ take it off.”

“Shh, no. Just breathe, Girl,” Lord Ren rumbled, voice staticky, grip tightening around her fingers again in an inescapable vice. “Imagine yourself as a cloth, absorbing the pain away. Collecting it, putting it somewhere else.”

She tried, but all she could think of was finding any way possible to rip her leg from her body, because surely that would be less painful than what she was feeling now from the medigraft.

“Think of sand,” he tried again, “of water pouring into it, soaking into the cracked ground, evaporating.”

This Rey could imagine. She had seen it too many times. 

And now she was the desert, she was the heat and dryness, and the pain was water. She imagined it as he said, as if the agony was nothing against her merciless ability to pull it in and disappear it forever. 

Whether by her mental efforts or by the medigraft having finished its torturous dissolving, Rey could feel the burning begin to ebb away and a strange restlessness bloomed beneath her skin in its place. 

She blinked her eyes open, not having realized that they had closed, and blew out a ragged breath, much of the tension bleeding out of her frame as she did.

“Okay,” she rasped after a moment, “I’m okay. I’m…okay.” She was lightheaded and sweaty, and her heartbeat was slightly achey in her chest, but it seemed the worst was over. 

“Good girl,” her master murmured, giving her hands a small squeeze before releasing them. Rey felt more warmth bloom all over her body, and ducked her head to hide her flushed face, pulling her hands back to capture the echo of feeling from Lord Ren’s warm skin.

It had been so long since she had been in contact with another person without cloth or gloves between them. That was probably why it had felt so intense, other than the fact it was her mysterious master’s skin she had been touching.

Lord Ren disinfected himself again, but waited with his elbows braced on his thighs, hands in tight fists between their nearly-touching knees, watching Rey as she panted and shakily wiped an errant tear or two away. 

She smoothed the pants across her lap and nodded with another hoarse, “Okay,” to signal she was fine for him to continue, and he did, sitting up and spraying something cooling over the graft while beginning to speak again.

“As I was saying, I use anger as a means to control my power, but I do not usually treat my Knights with hostility. We are a brotherhood; we live and we will die for each other and for the Way of Ren. But lately things have been tense and volatile among all of us for many reasons, mostly due to my own choices and mistakes. It is not usually like this.” He paused, and Rey sensed a tinge of self-reproach from him. 

“My temper has been ruling me when I should be showing more control. I am master for a reason, but it seems even I need to revisit my teachings every now and then.”

“But it’s not really your fault, Sir,” Rey argued softly. “I keep messing up. _I’m_ the one making you mad.”

He shook his head. “Be that as it may, my point still stands: I should have more control over myself. This sort of emotional sloppiness is dangerous; it could be used against me. I will not be made weaker by my lapse in mental regulation.” His voice lowered, “Not anymore.”

“You’ve been merciful, Sir,” Rey insisted, thinking of when he allowed her to explain about the lies to the interrogators, and he gave her so many things, and, “You haven’t—“ 

“I should not have used the Force on you so violently in the medbay,” he interjected sharply, “I should not have pushed you against the wall and threatened you in the Situation Room. You were cut, bleeding, you had just nearly been torn apart, after a mistake nearly anyone could make, even _I_ have almost done it, and my anger was directed at you when it should not have been. Not like that.”

She’s not sure why she didn’t like him taking the blame. Maybe he overreacted a little bit, but if she wasn’t such a walking mistake, if she was a better servant, more aware of her surroundings, he wouldn’t have been pushed to overreact at all. She needed to be better. 

“But—“

“Do you _really_ think you deserved that from me? Do you think you deserved to be made to kneel as punishment too?”

Rey trained her gaze on the supplies littering the table, her voice without inflection. 

“You had a right to be angry, Sir. I made a foolish mistake that caused problems for everyone. Reprimands help me learn from my mistakes. They help me be better.”

“Is _this_ not enough?”

Rey looked down at the throbbing ribbons of red on her thighs, glossy with bacta, and swallowed thickly. It was, but it wasn’t.

Lord Ren’s voice crackled slightly as he told her with no small amount of authority,   
  
“I say that _this is_ more than enough.”

Rey stayed silent, but gave a tiny nod.

He finished fixing up the graft in silence, sat back to look at his work, and then switched supplies to apply bacta patches. 

“If you had not gotten hurt, and if I had not told you otherwise, would you have stayed silent until I told you to speak again?” He asked. 

Rey looked at him, puzzled slightly.   
  
“Yessir. Of course.”

“Because you are scared of what you think I would do to you if you disobeyed?”

Again she nodded. Of course. That was the point, wasn’t it?

He nodded at that, but it did not feel like it was praising. He was pensive for another minute while he wiped more blood away, and then,

“At times you make very little sense to me, Girl; I am confounded more often than not by the things that you do, by the way that you think. But I am coming to fully realize—too little too late perhaps—that you are easily frightened into a level of subservience that is dangerous. And, even though I have not proven much to the contrary,” He paused, voice strained, “I…do not want that.” 

He thought quietly for another moment while he worked, and Rey waited, reminding herself to breathe through her rapt attention. 

All he had done since she’d arrived was make it a point that he was not to be disobeyed or messed with. The consequences were more than dire, they were the stuff of nightmares and horror stories. She had only suffered under the effects of his Force powers three times so far, but she was absolutely changed by them, reminding her not to speak out of line, not to lie, not to trust anyone to actually have her best interest at heart. 

Now he didn’t want that? He didn’t want her fear? It was too late. The deed was done. She was terrified of him. It made her even more wary that he was trying to convince her he wanted otherwise. Almost nothing he had done so far lent her to believe he would ever _not_ want her to be utterly terrified of him. 

He finally continued, looking up. “In spite of how things have gone, it is my hope that someday you will serve me out of true loyalty, not fear.”

Rey swallowed, uncertain how that was going to be possible, although she took slight offense that he thought she wasn’t loyal. She _was._ She would die for him—she’d given an oath.

“I chose to stay here to serve you, Sir, to be loyal to you. I wasn’t frightened into choosing to stay,” she contended. 

He nodded. “You did choose to stay, but you _were_ frightened into it.”

Her brow furrowed. “How?” 

“You were frightened of being alone.”

Rey took in a sharp breath and then looked down, wanting to argue but knowing that he was basically right. The truth made her feel childish.

“Do not be ashamed, Girl,” he murmured. “We are all frightened of being alone.” 

Rey froze her features to keep herself from reacting. Was Lord Ren afraid of loneliness? Was he afraid of _anything?_ How could he talk of loneliness, when he was flanked by people who had sworn to be by his side forever?

“At least you have your Knights, Sir,” she said quietly. “At least you’re not alone.”

“No, I suppose I’m not,” he mused. 

He looked at her, voice subdued to almost a murmur, but powerful in the promise the words held: 

“And neither are you now.” 

Rey felt the breath expand in her chest, her heart aching. 

Wasn’t she though? Lord Ren, his master, and his Knights may be the only other people in the galaxy with these Force abilities, but she couldn’t help but feel more alone than ever in this place. She was weak where they were powerful, she was timid where they were bold. She was nothing like them. She barely belonged.

But, oh, how beautiful his promise was, how buoyant it made Rey feel. 

His thumbs smoothed down a patch, his fingertips pressing lightly to the underside of her knee as he did, and a very warm, very electric flash of tingles erupted from the spot and spread across her skin, making her leg hairs rise and her body shudder. 

His hands were big, and nearly engulfed the joint. So large and dangerous they were, so capable of pain and destruction, and yet, here they were so gentle and warm, the pads of his fingertips surprisingly soft, just as they looked.

“You are a very strange kind of monster,” Rey observed quietly, and then stiffened, appalled at her own words. 

But instead of being angry Lord Ren huffed in dark amusement, leaning back.

“I suppose I am,” he droned, his electric voice turning wry. “Whatever will the other monsters think of me?”

Rey pressed her lips together, not sure how to respond to the dry humor. 

He looked at her for a moment and then moved to the other, slightly less damaged leg, inspecting it before gathering more patches. 

“I am hoping that having completed the duel, coupled with the week away, will act as a sort of reset for all of us,” he told her. “A true reset. Although, it may be too naive to be hopeful still. It feels as if every time I try to make things right, something else goes wrong.”

Rey ducked her head, knowing that she was the common denominator among it all. 

His voice turned reproachful again. “Although much of what has gone wrong has been my own blatant ignorance. I should have realized you were hurt.”

Rey’s grip on the pants on her lap tightened, her guilt rising. 

“Can you feel them too? The scratches?” Did they distract him? Was it a bother now?

He thought a moment, “In a way,” he murmured, then his voice lowered to a grumble. “Stop feeling guilty—It’s not pain. It’s just a sense.”

“Like a tingle?” Rey supplied, thinking of what she usually felt when Lord Ren was hurting. “Like you’ve touched a low-voltage live wire?”

He looked up. “Yes.” Then he sat up, his mask tilting. “You’ve been sensing the effects of my burns.”

Rey froze before nodding hesitantly, wary of upsetting him again.

“Since when?”

She gave a half shrug, eyes searching her memories in the air.

“I’m not sure, Sir.” She averted her eyes to the table, a tentativeness to her mumble: “Definitely since you came back.”

“Hm.” He pondered. “What about while I was gone? Did you feel anything?” Then he looked away slightly, voice low. “Tomaxx did say you had a panic attack.”

Rey caught herself from scowling. She _really_ didn’t like the Knight. 

“I _told_ him—” she started, and then quickly corrected herself, smoothing her tone to something more respectful.

She took a breath, speaking slowly, “—I _…did_ feel something, and I _think_ it was a vision or an omen, Sir. It was…” Her hand found her sternum, the heel of her palm pressing into the boney valley there. “…something _awful,_ here.” Her eyes rose to his visor, the memory of the horrible feeling haunting her. “It felt like dying, and I don’t know if it was a warning or something else. But I know it was _not_ a panic attack.” Her voice lowered to a mumble. “It felt too horribly magical to be one of those.”

Lord Ren took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, hands lax between them again.

“It may have been from me,” he admitted quietly. “You may have sensed when I was dying.”

Rey looked him over, as if she would be able to see the evidence of such a thing. She knew the evidence was hidden beneath his black layers, though. She knew the evidence when she felt it in tingles on herself. 

“You were really dying?” She asked, voice hushed.

He nodded.

“How did you survive?”

“How else but with the Force?” Lord Ren explained, a sense of somberness to it that felt too personal for Rey to ask any further questions about it, as much as she wanted to. He returned to the supplies after a breath of silence.

“Is this normal for people like us?” Rey asked instead. “To feel each other’s pain?”

He paused, then shook his head. “No. You shouldn’t be able to sense anything from me. Not even the Knights…” His voice turned low, tensely ponderous. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Rey understood now why he had gotten so angry at her in the room. He was a great and powerful master, and she could sense that he was not as invincible as he seems sometimes. 

“If I knew how to stop it,” Rey mumbled sincerely, “I would, Sir.”

He watched her quietly for several moments, his thoughts stirring. There was something dark about it that had Rey frowning, but then it disappeared. 

“There is a way it could be stopped,” he told her slowly. “Similar to building the wall around your mind. We can try to attempt it when I get back.”

Rey nodded, “Okay.” She would do anything to keep him from being angry at her for sensing things from him he did not want sensed.   
  
“During the week while we are gone, I want you to work on something for me.”

She perked up. 

“Of course, Sir. Anything.”

“Meditation,” he said. “To help you strengthen your mental walls. We will still do the other method when I’m back, but in the meantime you should practice how to quiet your mind with less effort. I have some things to attend to when I’m done here, but once they are done I will come back and guide you.”

Rey’s heart leapt. _Yes,_ finally, _finally_ he was going to show her more of the stuff from before. She’d get another go at walling up the dune, and maybe this time they wouldn’t be interrupted. 

“Are you still leaving tomorrow?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said. “It cannot be delayed.”

That was less than good news, but there was nothing to be done about it. She felt slightly less miserable about being left behind, though, knowing now there was something her master wanted her to do. A task, a challenge. 

Rey nodded, “I understand.”

“Good.” He seemed pleased with his handiwork, giving one more brush of his fingertips against the adhesive strips to make sure they were applied all the way, and nodded.

“Any other things I should know, anymore injuries you’re hiding?”

Rey looked down, turning her foot to scan her ankle. 

“Just my ankle, but I can tend to it myself, Sir. They’re just small nicks.”

He looked as well, and seemed to judge the risk to be low.

“Very well.” He stood, telling her, “Wait there,” and he disappeared in the other room. Rey heard the sound of her box sliding against the floor and back, and then Lord Ren reappeared with her other pair of pants in hand.

“Here. Get dressed,” he said, dropping the item on the table before gathering up the spent supplies.

When he moved to the waste receptacle Rey stood as well and gingerly slipped the clean pants on, wary of disturbing her master’s generous work. She was very glad that there was much less pain now, the bacta doing good work there, but even more happy to have warmth back in her limbs.

She sat and quickly applied disinfectant and bacta spray to the tiny scratches on her ankle, letting it dry before pulling up her socks again. Then, after throwing the ruined pants in the waste chute at his motioning, she helped gather up the rest of the supplies, going over to where Lord Ren was stood before the cabinet of medical things. She handed him the items and he put them away in a strategic, organized way. A place for everything, and everything in its place. 

He closed the cabinet, and stood with a once-again-gloved hand (much to Rey’s small disappointment) resting against it for a long moment before turning to look down at Rey. 

“I suspect you’ve been told to be silent many times in your life. It seems to come very easily to you, to keep things inside.”

Rey looked down and shifted on her feet. Wasn’t that the point of slaves? To be (barely) seen, and not heard?

“It must have been very difficult for you,” he mused, “to speak when I commanded you to be silent.”

She shifted on her feet again and gave a small shrug, her head ducking further.  
  
“I thought you might be more mad if I tried to hide the wounds from you, the way I did with everything before, Sir.”

“Yes, I probably would have.”

He breathed in, and gave a long sigh.

“I created a space for you to speak freely because your silence had endangered yourself and left me unable to perform my duties as your master,” he said. “And then, in my anger, I silenced you. Even if it was for just an hour…” She watched his hands clench and then slacken at his sides. 

“Look at me.” 

She did, raising her eyes to meet his dark visor.

Lord Ren shook his head. “You will not be silenced again like that, you have my word. Do you understand?”

Rey searched the surface of his mask, although she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She nodded gravely.

“I do not expect you to be able to speak freely with ease,” he added. “But in time you will. You may be a slave, but as I am master here I determine what that entails. My slave will speak to me. Understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Good.” He stood looking down at her for a long moment, and then his mask turned towards his chrono.

“It’s almost luncheon. Go wait in the other room for FX-8.” 

Rey gave a quiet word of compliance and went to do so, and then stopped in the doorway with a thought, turning around as her master placed his chair back and sat down heavily in his seat.

“Lord Ren?”

He turned, tensing. “What?”

“Thank you,” Rey said quietly, hoping he could feel her gratitude. “For dressing my wounds.”  
  
No other master besides Nybian had taken such care with it before. It was...unexpected, especially coming from Lord Ren. But no less appreciated.

He sat staring at her, the tension slowly releasing from his broad shoulders. Rey thought he was not going to say anything back, and turned to keep going, but froze at his voice:

“Your thanks are not required,” he told her lowly, and Rey ducked her head, deflating. _Of course not, it means nothing because I am—_

“You are mine to look after.”

She glanced up at him but he said nothing else. She nodded silently after another drawn moment, eyes cast down, and continued on to the couch. It was a minute or so after she sat that the bedroom door shut between them, and Rey looked at it with a small frown, a mess of emotions churning within her.

Out of the two of them, Rey decided, _he_ was the one who was confounding. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HNNGGGG Do you know how long I’ve had this planned?? Do you know how frustrating the ch 57 kerfuffle was for me, knowing that this was coming up?? And trying my fucking hardest not to spoil it because that ruins all the excitement and impact???  
>   
> And for some reason this chapter has given me so much insane anxiety I haven't been sleeping well, nor have I even gotten ch 61 done. It's difficult to write when I'm crawling out of my skin. 
> 
> HNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGG--  
> 
> 
> Anyways, what did you think? Quite an interesting chapter full of interesting developments, eh? 👁👄👁
> 
> *Optional Discussion Question*  
> Who do you think was more vulnerable in this scene (physically or otherwise)? Why?
> 
> Next chapter: Other important conversations are had between Kylo and his Knights.  
> Posting date: The next two weekends are going to be busy for me, so posting dates will be different. Next chapter will be **Monday, October 26th, 9PM Japan time.**
> 
> *Reminder again that if I ever am not able to post chapters on time for whatever reason, I will say something on my [Tumblr](https://veggieheist.tumblr.com/). Just search for 'Chains' on my blog and the post about it should be one of the first things to pop up.*


	61. The Siren's Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: some talk of suicide 
> 
> This chapter has 10,358 words.  
> ENJOY 👁👄👁✨

* * *

It was as if a shroud had been lifted from Kylo’s mind, allowing him to finally see and think clearly for the first time in forever when he saw the sickly fear on Girl’s face, when he saw the blood, when he saw the gouges in her flesh. Perhaps having finished the duel had played a part as well, the weight of it no longer holding down his thoughts, no longer stabbing him in the side like a knife. The blade had finally been pulled out, and with it gone he was finally able to think. 

She was injured, she was _bleeding._

And he had almost made her _kneel through it._

If she hadn’t somehow found the courage to speak up, he knew she would have done it, she would have kneeled in her own blood until she passed out from the pain or blood loss or shock. 

And he had almost let it happen. He had almost _made_ it happen, by creating such an impossible scenario for her: Kneel and bleed out, or speak and suffer his wrath? 

He was a kriffing fool to let things get this bad; he should have seen it coming. It really had been only a matter of time, for so much of it. Girl and Cseenan were like an open flame and speeder fuel, and he should have realized that putting stress on both parties, whether through fear or through anger, was only going to cause the inevitable explosion to be even more volatile. 

He needed to be a better master. He knew he would never be good enough, but he knew he just needed to be _better._

Tending to Girl’s wounds—which he took much of the blame for at this point—had been the first step. Cseenan may have rejected his offer but she could not. 

He had battled no small amount of discomfort about the thought of what it sounded like to tell his _female slave_ to take off her pants, but as soon as he’d seen the wounds, all uncomfortable feelings had evaporated and only focused urgency remained. There was no time for hesitancy; she needed medical care, _now._

And it was like muscle memory, how he fell into the motions. A sort of calm descended upon him, a sense of control. He was clumsy in so many ways pertaining to the care of his slave, but in this he had confidence, in this he knew he was doing right. 

And she had sat so well, trusting him—although he knew it was probably just fear of disobeying him that had kept her pliant. Still, he’d applied the medigraft and she’d listened to his words, following his guidance towards managing the pain he could sense and see happening. He didn’t realize how much he needed that sliver of trust from her until then, when he was reminded that he was capable of more than just inflicting pain on her. He could help take it away as well.

Kylo pushed his empty luncheon tray away and looked down at the palms of his gloved hands for the nth time since he’d been left alone in his bedroom. They looked the same as always, no outward differences at all, but if he focused enough he could still feel the electric tingle that had flashed through him upon grabbing Girl’s frantic hands in that moment.

Was it just because he hadn’t touched another living thing with his bare skin in who-knows-how-long, or was there something else, something related to the Force and their mysterious connection? Checking Girl’s pulse after she had collapsed those weeks ago had also elicited a shock, he recalled, but he had chalked that up to simple electromagnetism. 

What the _kriff_ was going on? 

He could have avoided this by putting on a clean set of gloves. He had plenty. But for some reason he had been compelled to tend to her sans gloves completely. 

Perhaps it was because she herself had been bared from the waist down, and he had wanted to show some sort of solidarity. Or perhaps there was no logical reason at all. Just a split-second decision, gloves off, no replacements, doesn’t matter, just get the job done. 

He had not missed the way she had been enthralled by the sight of his bare skin though, and he had almost gotten back up to cover them. 

_They’re just hands, you idiot_ , he’d scolded himself while disinfecting Girl’s wounds. _She’s the one not wearing any pants._

And so he’d kept working, pushing past the unnerved feelings in order to do his duty, the duty which had been quite literally pushed to the sidelines while he had been dueling Cseenan. 

No wonder the Barabel had been so distracted. That amount of blood must have been torturously tempting, and Kylo wondered if it was even fair that the Knight had been so distracted. Did he think Kylo brought her on purpose, to get the upper hand? 

He needed to speak with Cseenan, to explain that had not been his intention at all. 

He should have known, though, that something was wrong. He should have realized the tingling he felt was not normal, he should have realized it was coming from Girl. He had felt something similar when she’d been digging her nails into her hand at breakfast yesterday. 

And now it was finally known without a doubt that she could sense his ailments too, even though his mental walls were firmly up. She had even sensed him dying from _another ship_ , not to mention from _a_ _completely different sector._

The _why_ and _how_ were still unknown, but Kylo decided he would not be allowing it to continue any longer. As curious as it was for it to be happening at all, he did not like this feeling, as if he did not have control over his own mind anymore. As if he was _readable_ again, even in spite of his mask and mental fortitude. 

Having her try to build her mental walls was an experiment to see if it would help shield _him_ from whatever she was doing to sense him like this. When he and the Knights returned from Phu, he would see if there was any change, although no matter if it was successful or not he would guide her into cutting herself off from the Force. 

Snoke commanded it. And she would definitely not sense anything from him anymore then.

Kylo brushed his fingertips over his right palm again, his lips turning down in a frown. _So strange._

He sensed the front door opening, making him blink and close his fists quickly, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t. He grumbled to himself beneath his breath, eyeing his helmet but ultimately kept it off, turned in his seat, schooled his features, and waited. He could sense Girl’s sudden sharp anxiety, and then his bedroom door opened to let Tomaxx in.

The Chiss waited until the door was closed again before speaking, his voice quiet. 

“Master, Cseenan Ren has been tended to.”

Kylo nodded. “Good. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, as has he.”

Kylo nodded again, brow furrowed.  
  
“Where is he now?”

“Down in the training room still. He wanted to be left alone.” Tomaxx waited a frosty beat. “Do you want me to fetch him for you?”

“No. I will go down and speak with him.”

Again Tomaxx stood silently, tense, his mask looking aside. Kylo knew what he wanted to say.

“Say it,” he told the Knight. “Whatever it is.”

Tomaxx breathed stiffly for another moment before speaking, an electric whisper in the cold room.

“I was _right there_ , Master. I could have calmed him. There was no need to Influence him like that.”

“He did not seem capable of succumbing to even your methods at the time, Tomaxx,” Kylo contended. “I was trying to prevent bloodshed.”

The Knight’s fists tightened at his sides. “You used the Force on him as if he was just a mark, as if he wasn’t your sworn apprentice.”

“He was lost in his hindbrain,” Kylo argued. “He was going berserker and we both know what happens when he gets into that.”

Tomaxx’s voice lowered further, “You know I’ve brought him back from worse.”

Kylo looked away rigidly, wanting to keep arguing but knowing deep down the Chiss was right. He should have let Tomaxx try to calm Cseenan down. He’s not exactly sure why he didn’t, except he himself had been in something of a berserker mode. Watching the Barabel attack Girl like that…he’s never seen red so fast before.

“It’s a good thing that you won that duel, Kylo,” the Knight murmured. “Because if Cseenan had won he probably would have torn a new hole in your chest as a final winner’s strike, and I probably would have let him.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes.  
  
“You’ve said something similar before.”

“And I meant it then, as well,” Tomaxx stated with cold conviction. “Cseenan has every right to be pissed at you. I have every right, too. Are you going to do this again? Should I be mentally preparing myself for an eventuality where you reach the limit of your respect for me and in the heat of an argument try to Influence me to concede?”

Kylo stiffened, his voice hard, _“Never,_ and I am deeply offended that you would even think that of me. Aside from the fact that you are far too strong mentally to even succumb to Influence anymore, you know that I do not enjoy manipulations like that. You _know_ this.”

Tomaxx took a step forward, a rattling whisper from his mask: “Then _why.”_

The seated man looked away, the tendon on his jaw tensing from his clenched teeth, the air rushing as he breathed heavily through the tide of dark emotions washing over him. 

“I don’t know,” he gritted.

Tomaxx shook his head.  
  
“That’s not good enough.”

Kylo breathed for another several beats, trying to force the muscles in his back and arms to loosen. He knew why he had done it. He had admitted as much to Girl, but for some reason saying it again now was as painful as a stab to the stomach.

“I,” he finally ground out, “have lost control of my anger recently, and it has begun to control me in turn.” 

The Chiss gave a quiet sigh, the silence stretched with thoughts, and then spoke, “She _does_ seem to bring the worst out of you.”

There was no need to clarify who the ‘she’ was. It took another several breaths for Kylo to keep his tone from sounding too defensive.

“She is not to blame for how I have been acting.”

“She is absolutely to blame,” Tomaxx argued. “She’s the reason all of this has happened.”

Kylo shook his head. “A more controlled person would not have reacted so explosively so many times as I have. She did not Influence me to lash out like a Nexu the way that I have been; it has been all my own doing. A choice every time to give into the rage, and I have failed to resist.” 

Tomaxx watched him for a moment.  
  
“Anger is the path to the Dark Side of the Force.”

Kylo tilted his head with a pointed look.  
  
“And so now you are defending my actions?”

The Chiss grumbled, “No.”

“The Sith destroyed themselves by letting their dark emotions completely take over, without any checks or balances or thought for their brethren,” Kylo reminded him. “Anger may be the path to greater power, but not at the cost of loyalty and trust,” he further contended. “Not at the cost of you and Cseenan.” _Or Girl._

It was a tense moment between them, but as Kylo’s words sank into the air, the dangerous quality to the Knight’s presence receded somewhat.

“Do not do that to him again,” Tomaxx quietly told him, almost a command, almost offensively threatening, but Kylo pushed down the hackles rising within him— _Choosing_ to resist the anger brought up this time.

“You have my word I will not do it again, not to him, never to you,” Kylo vowed. 

The Knight nodded, and they lapsed into a smoother silence then. Still tense, but less cold.

Kylo looked away briefly.  
  
“I will go speak to him now,” he promised. 

“I would give it more time,” Tomaxx said, shaking his head. “He will not listen to you now.”

 _He will listen because I am his Master_ , Kylo thought, but he pushed it away as fast as it came. Now was not the time to impose his authority on the Barabel. Now was a time for space and reflection. There would be time tomorrow morning for them to talk before they departed, and if there wasn’t, he would find time on Phu. 

“Tomorrow, then,” he murmured. Another thought struck him and he turned back to face the Chiss. 

“What did you do to Girl to frighten her so badly in the Situation Room? She said you ‘corrected’ her.”

The Knight tilted his head. 

“She was sitting like a monkey-lizard,” Tomaxx groused lowly. “I gave her a nudge to get her to sit properly.”

Kylo knew he meant ‘mental nudge’, and frowned. No wonder she had been so rattled; she may have seemed to be getting over what Tomaxx did to her during her coma, but evidently not quite. It was going to take more time, especially if he want going to keep prodding at her.

“You need to stop messing with her mind,” Kylo warned. “She is still affected by your first foray.”

Tomaxx gave a sharp sigh. 

“She is rather pitiful, isn’t she?”

Kylo tensed, glowering.  
  
“You reminding her that you can come and go into her head at will is not going to help that.”

Tomaxx crossed his arms.  
  
“She needs training.”

The master felt his hackles rise again, growling: “She is not yours to train.” 

The Knight dipped his head.  
  
“Of course, Master. I carry no delusions in that regard. I only see it as another way to strengthen our team. Just as I give combat corrections to Cseenan, and on the rare occasion, you, I feel obligated to give the slave some corrections as well, even if it is of a different kind.”

 _And what makes **you** the authority on slave training?_ Kylo wanted to ask, but that led down a dangerous path, so he kept it inside.

“It does not require you to torment her mind, Tomaxx,” Kylo argued instead. “She only became so jittery because of what you did, and as a result she dropped the datapad and triggered Cseenan with her harried apology.”

Tomaxx looked at him for a long moment.

“Then I suppose we both made a mistake of the mind today.”

“Yes,” Kylo murmured thoughtfully, his frustration receding into a sort of contriteness. “I suppose we did.”

After another quietly settled pause, he stood, picking up his helmet. 

“Well, since apparently I’m not going to speak to Cseenan just yet, let’s you and I finish up in the Situation Room and prep the shuttle.”

“Yes, Master.” Tomaxx paused at the door, turning back halfway. “What about the slave?”

Kylo pushed his chair in. “What about her?”

“Will she be joining us?”

“I doubt she’ll be able to walk,” he told the Knight with a frown. “Cseenan cut up her legs when he grabbed her. I spent twenty minutes when we got back patching her up.”

“I wondered about that,” Tomaxx murmured.

“About what?”

“Him clawing her. I assumed she was fine when you brought her down. She was hurt?”

“Yes. Bleeding.”

Tomaxx became cold again, quietly asking, “Did you know she was bleeding when you put her in the same room as a Barabel primed for a duel?”

Kylo tensed as well, the air growing colder again. 

“No, Tomaxx, and that you would accuse me of such subterfuge offends me. If I had known she was bleeding I would have sent her to the medbay first. It’s one of the things I want to talk to Cseenan about, in case he thinks the same.”

Tomaxx relaxed a fraction, nodding. “I’d still give him more time, but he will definitely want to know it wasn’t a purposeful trick.” He sighed, voice low, “This explains a lot.”

Kylo put his helmet on and motioned ahead. “Let’s go then. I’d like to get everything done by dinner.”

The door opened and they exited to the main room, where Girl was mid-sentence talking with FX-8.

“—just fell and hit my kn—“

She flinched to a stop, sitting stiffly with back straight, eyes downcast as Tomaxx walked through to the main door, barely sparing her a glance. 

Kylo knew he himself had more or less promised the girl that he would try to control himself more when it came to his anger, and her fear was not going to disappear quickly. Especially concerning the Knights, it would take time, and patience. But it took some effort for him to not be annoyed now by her fearful display.

It had been a sort of epiphany, one made far too late but made nonetheless, when he had realized that her being so terrified of him—of all of them—was actually _not_ indicative of his prowess as her master, but indicative of his failure. 

When he had first brought her aboard he’d not known what to do, and he’d made the mistake of ignoring her. Now he wasn’t ignoring her anymore, but he had swung too hard in the opposite direction in terms of discipline, and she was _too_ scared. It was causing her to make mistakes again, to make problems for all of them. There needed to be balance, and it needed to start with him. 

Just as he had told Tomaxx, the power brought on by his rage was not worth all of these consequences.

Kylo motioned for the Knight to go on ahead to the corridor, and then went to where Girl was on the couch. FX-8 tracked him with its photosensor eye, speaking up as he approached.

<Lord Ren, my sensors detect that Girl has injuries. Are you aware that she has been injured?>

“Did she tell you what might be the cause?” Kylo asked it.

Girl looked up at him warily, the faint question in her brows answered with the small dip of his chin—an encouragement, a permission. She then turned to the droid, her face more set.

“I just fell and hit my knees on the stairs. It’s not a problem for you to worry about.” She glanced at him again and he gave another small nod of approval.

“See?” Kylo said to the droid, “It’s not a problem. There’s no need to record or report about it. The only things that need your attention are her nutrition levels and blood pressure.”

The medidroid whirred quietly for a moment, and then,

<Yes, Lord Ren. Understood>

“Good.” Kylo turned to look down at the girl. “Tomaxx and I are going to finish up in the Situation Room and prep the shuttle for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said and moved to get up. Kylo held up a hand and she froze, sitting back down warily.

“Considering the _recent strain_ on your body,” he said pointedly, “coupled with your _anemia,_ I’m sure the risk of you fainting is much higher now. It will be better for you to rest here.”

Girl deflated, somehow looking far more tired in the span of a moment, her face turned down to her lap with her silent nod. The air filled with her self-reproach and it bit at the edges of Kylo’s mind.

He crouched, leaning into her line of sight. 

“I know it’s not ideal,” he told her lowly, calmly, “But I need you to rest up. What we will do later will take some energy, understand?” 

The type of mental work involved with building walls was not as easy as it sounded. 

Girl blinked, and he could see that she did understand as the self-reproach eased from her features. Then she nodded again, this time more stalwartly, a glimmer of determination returning to her eyes. 

“Good,” he murmured with a small nod. And then, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m….as fine as I can be, Sir,” she told him, her hands ghosting over where the wounds were. “Some dizziness and some small pain from my _fall_ but, it’s tolerable.”

He nodded, thinking for a moment with a glance at the medidroid. 

“If it becomes _in-_ tolerable _,_ let FX-8 give you some pain medication.”

Normally he eschewed any and all efforts to stop or hinder pain, for obvious reasons, and that normally extended to his Knights as well. They all needed to learn how to control pain themselves, to gain strength from it in the Force. Using drugs to dampen it made their powers weaker. 

But Girl was not a Knight, and she was not trained in the Force. It would actually be safer for her to _not_ feel pain, since she could hardly control her powers at all even when fine. 

She glanced away, glowering. “I think I’ve had enough drugs to last me a lifetime, Sir. I’d rather deal with the pain.”

“Hm, I bet,” he mumbled. “But if it starts to become a _problem,_ you’re to take something to alleviate it, understood?”

“Yessir,” she answered, chastened. 

Kylo looked around, then back to Girl. “Did you get a supplement?”

“Yes,” she said, gesturing at the droid. “I drank it already, but I can take the one I left on your nightstand as well, Sir.”

Kylo’s mouth made a thin line as he stood. 

“I know you wanted to save it. But it should be thrown out.”  
A tense, flighty look creased her brow as she looked up.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been sitting out for hours, and we don’t eat garbage here, remember?”

In spite of how the kitchen officers had made it seem, they were not lacking in food on board. There was no point in rationing or saving things that were probably not good anymore, especially medical supplements. 

She looked up at him with an almost gutted, pleading expression.

“But…it’s a waste.”

Kylo shook his head.  
  
“It’s not a waste; It will probably make you sick. I want you to throw it out, understand? Do not drink it.”

She hesitated before nodding with a quiet, “Yessir.”

Satisfied, he nodded and began heading to the door, but stopped again.

“Your datapad is still in the Situation Room, isn’t it?” He asked with a scowl.

Girl gave a weary affirmation.

“It’s not a problem, Sir. I can just sit and…” she searched around, her eyes stopping on the droid, her voice a mumble, “…talk to FX-8.” 

Kylo eyed the droid as well. 

“I don’t think he’s programmed for any particularly stimulating conversation,” he droned. He thought for a moment, an internal battle that was fought and lost in the span of two breaths, and then went back to his room to grab his own device, typing in the security code to unlock it and search for a program.

“You can use mine,” he told her, handing it to her stiffly. “I think it’s time for a small break from the studying anyways.”  
  
“Yessir,” she said in a hushed voice, taking the device as if it was made from blown glass. “Thank you.” 

He gestured to the screen.  
  
“This is a brain exercise program; a series of mind puzzles and paradoxes to solve. It’s designed on levels. You must solve the problem correctly before you can move on to the next one. They start out easy and become more difficult the further you go. Eventually you’ll get to one that will probably keep you busy for a while.”

She nodded, something awed and yet wary in her eyes as she looked at the screen. 

Kylo crooked his fingers in her line of sight to bring her gaze back up, trying to push authority and seriousness into his voice without appearing menacing or _too_ threatening as he warned her,

“Do _not_ open or read anything else on this. I will know it if you do; everything is logged. Understand? I’m entrusting this with you.”

Her grip tightened on the datapad as she pulled it closer to her chest, her face changing to one of strict gravitas. 

“I promise I won’t look, Sir.”

The top-secret files were encrypted anyways, and he doubted she knew how to decrypt them, but still. He started to regret his decision to let her use his datapad for a second, almost taking it from her, willing to let her sit with nothing but the medidroid for hours just to appease the sudden anxiety tightening his chest. 

But he didn’t. He took a deep breath to loosen the feeling from his lungs and breastbone, and nodded. 

“Good.”

Then Kylo gave a gruff sigh. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to secure yours to you better. Later though. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Try not to get sick or break your neck somehow in the meantime, alright?”

Girl blinked at him, and then looked sideways with a small scowl, shoulders hunching. 

“I’m wary of promising anything at this point, Sir, but I’ll do my best.”

“Hm,” Kylo hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching up in dry amusement. “I suppose that’s good enough for now.” 

He pointed at the slave, her twitch and spark of anxiety not escaping notice.

“Make sure you rest,” he told her.

She gave a quietly tense and obedient reply, and he looked at her for a drawn moment, a moue of perturbed discontent turning down his mouth. 

Then he beckoned the door open with his mind, and her silent, slightly stressed aura was lost behind him as he turned and swiftly exited to the hallway where Tomaxx was casually waiting.  
  
“Let’s go.”

* * *

  
The Situation Room was in slight disarray still from the earlier assault, with datapads and holochrons scattered about the table and floor, a chair overturned, and Girl’s seat a crumpled heap in the corner. 

Tomaxx looked at the warped metal and turned to Kylo with a question in the air. 

Kylo glanced at it as he gathered the tabletop items for reorganizing.

“It was either the chair or her,” he grumbled in explanation, although he had not intended to hurt Girl in the slightest. He had just found himself seething from the look of pitiful concern on her face when she sensed another one of his cramps, and had felt compelled to make an example of the furniture. But it had only been another display of rage that had not done any good. Her expression of pure terror had emboldened him at the time, but now he looked at the damage and smothered down feelings of shame.

The Chiss nodded, unaware of Kylo’s small inner conflict, and moved to pick up Girl’s datapad, handing it to Kylo before righting the other capsized seat. 

From there it was only another hour between the two of them for the rest of the work to be finished. They consolidated the information needed and headed to the hangar to prep and load the shuttle. 

They would be taking the Knights’ ship, as usual. Kylo’s shuttle was too conspicuous for the disguise that they required during missions such as this. They needed to fit in to the local populace, which meant appearing travel-weary and unassuming. The Knights’ shuttle, with its faded paint and older-model design, looked innocent enough to belong to some wares trader or traveling merchant, but beneath the innocuous durasteel hull it carried enough fire power to arguable take out a Star Destroyer all on its own.

The computer console in the cockpit was also state-of-the-art, and the information they needed would be uploaded to the secured external computer drive, outfitted with its own self-destruct program to wipe all information in the event the mission was compromised. And, the ship mainframe metadata was scrubbable, which was helpful in changing the ship’s Ident-number and call signs if they were ever caught, or suspected of being who they actually were. No doubt it had needed to be scrubbed twice now, once after the explosive departure from Jakku, and again after the fight on Donadus. 

No doubt it would be scrubbed many more times before they would inevitably have to find a new ship to use, whether because this one would be too recognizable or because it would get destroyed. But for now it served its purpose well. 

Each of them would have fake identichips too, courtesy of Tomaxx and his nefarious yet convenient connections, and when they reached orbit they would change into their respective disguises. It would not do for their masks and usual robes to be seen too many times in too many places, so they occasionally settled on a different appearance and mask ensemble. Still unreadable, but not quite so memorable. 

In addition to uploading the information, they needed to stock provisions and medical supplies, check to make sure the systems and engines were maintained, and log the new Ident-number and call signs with the _Finalizer_ comms and flight coordinators so they would not be blasted into oblivion upon coming back. 

It was a long checklist of things to do, but they had it streamlined by now. The only hiccup today was the fact that Cseenan was not there to help, but Kylo knew he would show up eventually, or at least comm Tomaxx to be updated on things. 

After four hours or so, almost everything had been finished. Kylo was in the shuttle when Tomaxx met back with him after going to log things with the comms deck, and together they double-checked the list.

“Everything looks good,” Kylo said as he closed the compartment containing the food and medical things. 

“I’ll check again tomorrow morning before we leave,” Tomaxx promised. He looked at the chrono. “Almost dinner. Do you want me to check on Cseenan? He’s probably back in his rooms.”

The Knight had not commed either of them, nor shown up, and Kylo frowned now upon realizing it, picking up Girl’s datapad again.

“Yes, and let me know. I’ll speak to him after he’s eaten.”

Tomaxx nodded, and they both descended the shuttle ramp. They spoke of last-minute details as they walked, voices low, quieting around the officers and troopers traveling the corridors until they could speak more freely in the lift. 

Back on the level of their quarters, their conversation finished as Tomaxx continued on down the corridor towards the junction, and Kylo entered his own rooms. 

He couldn’t see Girl, and for a split second he had the sudden jolting thought that history had repeated itself and Cseenan had come up from the training room to finish what he had started weeks ago, but he settled his pounding heart by immediately sensing out her _live_ presence. She was here, not afraid, not in mortal danger. 

Not on the couch nor at the table, either, so he went to the stairs at the area with his shelves and—

She was asleep on her bed, his datapad clutched to her chest lightly, as if she’d been lying down reading and then slipped into a doze.

_Well,_ Kylo thought as he eyed her, _at least she’s resting._

He thought about leaving her to sleep, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to tonight if she went too long, and he wasn’t sure how long she’d been like this. So he stepped up into the small area to stand beside the bed, placing her datapad beside her sleeping form. Then he snapped twice the same way he had to wake her up that time before he’d left for the _Supremacy._

She did not stir. 

He leaned closer and tried again, which elicited a small twitch of a frown, but still no wakefulness. Kylo rolled his eyes, sighing, and tapped her forehead, which had her twitching again with a sterner frown and a small noise of protest. 

“Girl, wake up.”

“Mm?”

“Wake—“

All at once her eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, almost flinging the datapad away but for her surprisingly fast reflexes catching it before it could go far. She had evidently remembered to put on her blood pressure monitor, because it shrieked red from the sudden shift in position.

“Lord Ren,” she rasped, blinking woozily, her hand coming up to smooth back the errant strands of hair from her face before slapping down to muffle the band. “’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be; I told you to rest,” he said, standing straight now, eyeing her critically as she breathed with eyes closed until the monitor finally quieted. 

“How long have you been sleeping?” He asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, looking around, frowning at the reappearance of her datapad beside her, then back up. “How long were you gone, Sir?”

“About four, almost five hours,” He said. “It’s nearly dinner now.” He motioned to her legs. “How are your—“ The alert for his door chimed before it suddenly opened, cutting him off and revealing Tomaxx. 

“Master,” he said as he stepped in, and, alarmed, Kylo moved to the top of the small stair with a frown. 

“What?”

“Apologies for intruding,” Tomaxx said, “but Cseenan is not in his room.” 

The flare of unease from Girl at the Knight’s entrance bubbled up into a flash of fear, reflecting in her wide eyes that Kylo could see in his peripherals.

“Do you think he’s still down in the training room?” he asked the Knight.

“Probably; he’s not answering his comm.” 

Kylo clenched his fists, once again reminding himself that Girl was here right beside him and not lost in the corridors with a stalking Barabel on her heels. 

“Well I haven’t received any messages from the comms officers,” he mused gruffly, “so he probably hasn’t gone after anymore troopers again.”

“Shall I look for him?” Tomaxx asked.

Kylo shook his head, “No, I’ll go.” He needed to speak with him anyways. Now was as good a time as any.

He sidestepped back towards where Girl was sitting stiffly, her socked feet on the floor. He was tempted to try to reach out to touch her shoulder in reassurance, and unthinkingly moved to do so. Her flinch and sharp discomfiture froze him, her eyes flickering away and back as if she was afraid he would lash out at her small automatic rejection. 

He lowered his hand, keenly aware of her sudden flaring wariness at the gesture, and pushed down the bitter feelings brought up because, really, he should know better. He should know she would not appreciate it. Not now, and definitely not while she was so tense and uncomfortable like this, with Tomaxx here. 

For a split second though, he felt like there should be some sort of change in her manner to reflect the change he had already made in his mind, but he reminded himself that she had nothing to go on at this point but his word. He would have to prove it in order to see anything change in how she responded to him. One conversation and a handful of promises made over torn legs and bacta patches was not going to fix the fear she felt towards him.   
  
“I’ll be back,” he told her quietly, calmly, hand casually lax at his side, “but you’ll probably get dinner in the meantime. Don’t wait for me.”

Her eyes flickered to where she could see the Knight through the geometric wall.

“Yessir.”

Kylo followed her gaze and back. 

“He won’t do anything,” he promised her. 

Then, moving more slowly, he pointed at the blinking band on her wrist, his voice lowering further. “No fretting.”

She nodded shakily, a hand covering the yellow light, whispering, “No fretting.”

Kylo gave another small nod and then moved away back down, telling Tomaxx as he passed to stay until he commed with an update. 

“Yes, Master,” the Chiss replied.

And then beneath his breath Kylo added, “And stay _out,”_ with a pointed tilt of his head. 

Tomaxx nodded demurely, his palms opening into a small placating gesture.

Figuring that was going to have to be enough, Kylo continued on. 

Five minutes or so later he was motioning for the door to their training room to open, and upon seeing his Barabel Knight sitting in meditation in the center of the room, Kylo let out a long breath. 

He lifted his comm, speaking low, “Tomaxx.”

The comm crackled a moment later. _“Yes, Master.”_

“I found him. You can leave.”

_“Is he in the training room?”_

“Yes.”

_“Still?”_

Kylo doubted the Barabel had left, but that meant he had been here for almost four hours. 

“Seems so. Go eat.”

_“Yes, Master.”_

Kylo put his comm away and took some steps closer into the room. 

Cseenan did not move or open his eyes, but Kylo knew he was aware of his presence by the slight shifting of his scales. After a breath the Barabel spoke up.

“More drills, Master?” He growled. “More blaster shots?”

“No,” Kylo replied, standing still for a moment, and then he removed his helmet.

“Have you eaten?” He asked as he smoothed his hair back. 

“No,” came the grumbled reply.

Kylo took in a deep breath. 

“Neither have I.”

At this the Barbel cracked open his eyes, growly voice sarcastic, “Want Cseenan to go hunt you something, Master?” He bared his teeth. “This _beast_ is yours to command.”  
  
Again Kylo took in a breath, settling himself. 

“No.”

He went to the screen by the door, tapping in orders. When he turned back the Barabel was back to having his eyes closed, although there was a crease between his scaly brows now. 

It was just a minute or so later when a kitchen droid appeared in the doorway carrying a large metal container, and a small tray. 

Kylo motioned for it to go to the table by the weapons wall.

“Will you eat with me?” He asked the Knight.

At that Cseenan turned his head away, a tenseness in his shoulders, a heaviness to his breathing.

“And what did you bring for Cseenan?” He grumbled. “Nutrimeal? Can I eat at the table, or will you have me clean it from the floorings with my tongue?”

Kylo lifted the lid of the large container that the droid had hefted up, and immediately the copper smell of blood and raw meat wafted into the air. When Kylo turned to look at him, he saw the Barabel was already on his feet, his eyes half-black, scales and claws and tail twitching.  
  
“It’s not nutrimeal,” Kylo said, placing the lid and his helmet down. “We’ll eat at the table, unless you want us to sit on the floor.”

“Us?”

Kylo nodded. “I’ll eat where you eat,” he promised in a low tone.

Cseenan clenched his fists, then stalked forward, his eyes zeroed in on the container of flesh. His nostrils flared, his claws _clink_ ing against the lip of the metal as he gripped the edges.

He lifted it, finally turning to look at Kylo.

“We sit on the floorings.”

* * *

They sat on the floor with backs against a wall, eating without speaking, although it was by no means silent. Kylo focused as much as he could on himself and the food on his lap, trying to ignore the wet noises of Cseenan tearing at the meat, because if he didn’t he knew he was going to become sick. 

He had a strong stomach, but this was a level of strength even he struggled with, which is why he typically did not eat around the Knight if he could help it. But he needed to stay this time. He needed to eat with his Knight.

Eventually he managed to get—and keep—all of the food down, and waited patiently for Cseenan to finish and clean the blood and bits of meat from his claws and snout. 

And then they were just sitting, tray and container placed aside, quietly looking out at the empty training room, a sort of strained awkwardness pulling the space and air tight between them as the quiet dragged on. 

Kylo tried to use the silence to organize his thoughts, to try and figure out where all of this had started, where things had gone wrong. The corridor incident was the first, and then so many other things had imploded after that, like a chain reaction. For some reason there was something that stuck out in his mind, so he took a small breath and spoke,

“After you first went after Girl,” he began slowly, sensing the Barabel stiffen slightly beside him, “after she was already in the tank, we were sitting trying to do work in the Situation Room, do you remember?” 

Cseenan was quiet as he thought, his tone roughly hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure where this was going. 

“Yes…I remember.”

Kylo nodded, his brow furrowed as he looked at the far wall. His own volatile emotional state back then had been influenced by the smoky hauntings of Visser’s memory, but he recalled something that had pushed him towards his rejection of Cseenan’s duel challenge all the more: 

“You were resentful.” 

After another moment Cseenan rasped, “Yes.”

“Of me?” Kylo asked. “For stopping you?”

He saw in his peripherals the Barabel shake his head. “No. Not of you.” 

Kylo let him think, knowing it was not always as easy for him to say what he wanted to say. He was opposite Tomaxx in that way. Where the Chiss was eloquent and easy to talk things out with, the Barabel was less so, more apt to expressing through actions. But they needed to talk about this now. They needed to talk about all of it. 

The Knight looked down at his claws. “Cseenan…” He twitched, as if in pain. “… _I_ resented _myself,_ I think.”

Kylo frowned, surprised. “Yourself?”

“Yes.”

Again it was silent, but Cseenan’s scaly brow was tense, his amber eyes locked onto a spot on the floor as if it had offended him.

“My instincts,” he rasped, extending his claws, “my hunting skills, my runner-thoughts, they are a sharp tool but—” his eyes closed, his hands fisting, “…also a weakness. I have thanks for the control that you have taught me, Master, but I am still undisciplined, I am still weak.” 

Kylo gave him a disconcerted look, but remained quiet, waiting.

Cseenan shook his scaly head, bowing under the weight of his open shame. “I gave a hard try, Master, I did, but….I could not stop myself from hunting the slave. It was…not something I have experienced afore. Stronger than all times. And,” his brow creased, his claws clicking in agitation. “There is something…something dark….more than a runner-thought, whispering things…telling me to snatch her, to break her bones, to gut her alive. I try to ignore it, try to submerge my head in Tomaxx’s riddles and the things you have taught me, but….I do not trust myself now.” He turned his head away. “Not anymore.”

Kylo eyed the Barabel, the food in stomach turning to stone, his chest tight. 

“I should have done something to help keep you on the right path,” he admitted lowly, “Something to not test your discipline so suddenly. I had noticed you had possibly fixated on her, and I did not intervene.”

“Your teachings should be enough, Master,” Cseenan contended roughly, eyes sharp. “I should be stronger. I should be more controlled over my instincts. And yet, Cseenan is still a _beast.”_ He bared his teeth, glaring down at his claws. “Maybe Master should have left me in that hole of shit and blood and bones.”

There was something so familiar about this conversation that it distracted Kylo for a moment until he realized he had almost had the same one earlier with Girl, except on opposite sides. 

_How ironic_ , he thought, and then pushed the small realization away. 

Kylo’s voice quieted, a part of himself not wanting to talk of Cseenan’s Dead Self. But knowing that the Barabel did not care as much about it helped him to speak. 

“You _were_ a beast back then. Fighting others for money, for survival. A gladiator, practically an animal.” He leaned to catch the Knight’s eye. “But, that is not the Cseenan I know now,” he insisted. “That thing you were, that was Tesarth. But we killed him, all of us, together, and you rose up from the pit of beasts and became a god amongst mortals. That you struggle still with your instincts is just part of the path.”

Life was a struggle. It was full of hardships and pain and obstacles. Things of value do not come for free. These things he had all learned the hard way.

“Would power feel the same, if it was easy to obtain?” Kylo asked. “If there were no trials, no setbacks? You have worked hard to get where you are, Cseenan. I see it in you, Tomaxx does too. You are deadly, you are primal, but you are not a wild, dumb beast.”

The Knight looked away, his body stiff, his breathing ragged, pain in the slope of his neck.

“Pretty words for someone who called me the same.”

Kylo blinked, feeling himself backtrack. “I said you _were_ a beast, not—“

“No,” Cseenan growled, shaking his head. “In the Archives room. After Blue and I came back from Jakku. You said I was an animal, you said I should be muzzled. You called me a beast.”

The man looked down, trying to remember. There was so much from that time that was a dark red blur for him, his rage and the haunting influence of his past having clouded his mind so much. 

“The report,” he murmured. “I remember. You ate the old man. Lor San Tekka.” He realized now that such an action surely must have been provoked somehow. Cseenan was not usually so conspicuous while on missions. It was dangerous for all of them, and he especially almost never did things that would put Tomaxx at risk. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” Kylo said. “I was…I was not in control of myself.” The confession received a look from the Knight, and Kylo inclined his head. “Even I struggle with control over myself, especially recently. What happened in the corridor…” he looked down, “…it reminded me of Visser, and my role in his death. I know your feelings about him have never been amicable, but…”

Cseenan eyed him. “You and him were close. Killing a friend is no easy thing,” he growled, “even if he deserved it.”

Kylo nodded. “Even though I would do it again, it has haunted me for years; a shadow following me—one that I actively ignored, but one that attached itself to me nonetheless. And then suddenly he was back at the forefront of my mind, unwilling to be pushed away to be forgotten anymore. His memory tainted my thoughts, my emotions, my actions.”

“You were not in a right mind,” Cseenan rasped lowly, claws scraping absentmindedly against the side of his boot. “More than once I thought you would kill me.”

“I almost did,” Kylo confessed quietly, a shame flaring within him. “I was not in control. It is not an excuse for how I acted towards you, especially in the archives room; merely an explanation. But—” he searched his memory, trying to find an answer, trying to remember if he had already been told. Nothing, though. He couldn’t remember. 

“—why did you do it?” Kylo finally asked. “Why did you eat the old nomad?”

The Barabel looked away, a sudden tense discomfort making his scales twitch. 

“I said he insulted us.”

Kylo nodded, the memory resurfacing. “You did.”

“I was insulted,” Cseenan murmured gravelly, “because he said things.” He glanced at Kylo. “About you.” 

The man gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“Somehow he knew we were yours, even though we were disguised,” Cseenan said, and Kylo felt his body prickle with alarm. “He talked like he knew you, jabbering on, but, it wasn’t…” 

Kylo watched him, something beginning to simmer within him, an enflamed foreboding, a dark feeling.

“What did he say?”

Cseenan bared his teeth, his agitation rising with Kylo’s heated emotions, and the man tried to smother them down, not wanting to trigger more violence from the Knight. 

“He said our master was not who we knew. He said ‘your master may have thought he found a place to belong on the Dark Side, but it would not last, because your master did not rise from the Dark side, and your master could deny it, but he could not escape the truth.’”

“What truth?” Kylo asked, his voice hoarse.

Amber eyes met his own, telling and dark.  
  
“‘The truth of his family.’” 

A muscle in Kylo’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, his fists itching to hit something, to force pain unto himself and drown out the tide of emotions pressing behind his walls. He stood, stepping away, breathing deeply, but it only prompted Cseenan to his feet as well, his teeth snapping as he started to pace. 

“He was speaking of your Dead Self,” he growled, tail whipping side to side, “and it boiled my blood, Master, it filled me with black runner-thoughts, with rage, because _we,”_ he gestured sharply to himself, “Cseenan and Tomaxx, are your family. The Skywalkers and the Solos are _nothing.”_

He stopped before Kylo, looking up at him with fire in his eyes. 

“You are Kylo Ren. To even say that you would not always belong here, would not stay our Master even after all you did to become master, just because of what you were born as, just because of where and from who you were whelped, it, it just—“

His eyes flashed black for a second, his muscles straining as he turned and gave a hoarse roar to the empty room. The sound echoed into quiet when he stopped, his frame trembling with rage.

He turned back, breath rasping.

“If one thing I can remember that you have taught me, Master, it is that we are what we _choose_ to be, not what the galaxy say we are. This you have taught us.” 

Kylo wanted to say, _yes, exactly,_ and stand taller with pride in how his Knight had listened to his teachings. They can choose to be who they want, and the Way of Ren and Snoke would help them get there.

Cseenan looked away after a moment, though, turmoil rising around him, saying, “But…sometimes I do not think it applies for me,” and Kylo eyed the Knight with sudden disquiet.

“What do you mean? Why not?” 

Cseenan closed his eyes. “I maybe am less careful of speaking of my Dead Self, but—“ his hands clawed, opened eyes nearly black again, the pure fury catching Kylo off guard along with the spitting words that came from it: 

“—I _fucking hate him_ ,” Cseenan snarled. “I _hate_ Tesarth, because I cannot kill him the same as you and Blue. He is my instincts, my runner-thoughts, and there is no killing that from me.” 

He grasped the front of his robes, twisting the fabric, as if he could twist out Tesarth in the same way. There was molten agony in his face, in his voice.

“I wish I could kill it all, because I _fucking hate_ to be the beast, the unmuzzled animal, uncontrolled like a pup. All this hard-try, all this effort, and I still struggle too much, I still fight and fight and _fight.”_

He took in a rasping breath, a painful breath. “I don’t—“ he struggled to speak, and then fell to his knees, head lowered, shoulders shaking. “—I don’t deserve to be your apprentice, Master. My mind is _weak.”_

And whether to show it to be true, or just from the weight of everything coming down upon him, Cseenan’s mental walls suddenly just, _collapsed,_ and Kylo was overwhelmed with his feelings of anguish, hopelessness, and absolute _wretched_ suffering.

“How can I recover from this _shame,_ Master,” Cseenan cried roughly, “How can I kill something that is _me,_ without dying the true death? It is impossible. It is _hopeless._ You have tried so hard to teach me to be something more, and I have failed. I am a _failure.”_ He shook his head. “You were right-wise to call me a beast and an animal, to say I need a muzzle. I cannot even stop myself from attacking the fucking _troopers._ Sometimes I think lately it would have been better if you had let Visser kill me, it would have been better if you’d killed me the times you could have. Sometimes I think I should eat my saber blade myself just to rid us all of this _shame—“_

Kylo’s legs folded as he descended to his knees, his hands grasping his Knight’s shoulders tightly, desperately, a terrible cracking fissure cutting through his chest, and he would have rather been struck by Snoke’s torturous lightning a thousand times than feel this pain now. 

_“No,_ Cseenan Ren, never,” he shook him, voice quavering, _“Never_ speak of such a thing, _never_ do that. Do you hear me?”

The Barabel trembled, his nails cutting holes into his tunic now, his head bowing further. 

Kylo eyed the Knight, taking in every inch of torment on display, his voice broken as he realized,

“There are not enough duels in the universe capable of righting the wrongs I have committed against you, my brother.” 

Kylo felt the Barabel shudder, and he kept on, words thick with regret and desperate grief, 

“Your successes far outweigh your mistakes, Cseenan, your growth far outreaches anything anyone could have ever thought possible for the Barabel that was Tesarth.” Kylo leaned further into the Knight’s space, his grip tightening. “That person you were is dead, and even if parts of him remain it doesn’t matter because _Cseenan Ren_ lives. _This is_ who you are, runner-thoughts, instincts, and all, but you are more than that. You’re a Knight of Ren, _my_ warrior, _my_ apprentice. But more importantly, you are my _brother,_ Cseenan. And I have failed you recently, by making you think you were anything less.”

Cseenan looked up, his gaze unblinking and locked on to Kylo’s, his clawed hands relaxing from the death grip on his tunic. Barabels were incapable of crying tears, but the open plane of his mental anguish and the ragged breaths he took may as well have been a form of sobbing. 

“I am more than my tooth and claw,” he choked out, his voice like rough gravel, his eyes pained and angry and desperate. “More than my runner-thoughts.”

“Yes, Cseenan,” Kylo promised with solemn heaviness, squeezing the Knight’s shoulders for emphasis. “You are far more than just tooth and claw and runner-thoughts. You are cunning and loyal, you are hard working and diligent, you are _intelligent,_ and you are my _family.”_

Cseenan’s amber eyes searched Kylo’s face, his open emotions a tumultuous ocean of so much, and he gave a shaky nod.

“Family.”

Kylo’s chest felt shattered, every breath ached, but he welcomed the pain because he deserved it. He had failed so much lately, failed all of his underlings, _all of them_ , nearly destroying the only good things he had in his life anymore. The only good things he’d ever really had: People who accepted him, who would die for him. And this was how he treated them? This was what he led them to? 

He had to be better. He _had_ to. There was too much riding on his shoulders for him to have such a catastrophic slip-up of his emotional control again. He would have to point his anger elsewhere, someplace where the destruction wouldn’t actually hurt anyone who mattered. 

He would fight more droids, more troopers. He’d meditate, find guidance in Darth Vader, in the holochrons of the Archives Room. Anything, _anything._

But he would not cause his Knights pain like this again. Never again.

“How can I right this, Cseenan?” He asked hoarsely. “How can I make amends? A duel is not enough, not for the things I said to you, not for this.”

The Barabel breathed deeply, nostrils flaring, eyes thoughtfully lowered.

“There is a thing that can be done to help.”

“Name it.”  
  
Cseenan looked Kylo in the eyes, deadly serious.

“Get rid of the girl.”

Kylo looked away, his lips thinning, hands falling to his lap. 

Cseenan continued, “She’s like a siren, Master. Her fear is a song and her blood sings to me to be spilled. If I find her alone, if she _runs—“_   
  
“You will resist,” Kylo told him, pushing surety into his voice. “You will fight the siren’s call. It will not be easy, but you cannot always mold the galaxy to suit your whims. The challenge to change yourself is not an easy one, but it must be done. She is staying.”

“This is no slippings matter, Master,” Cseenan argued, tense with wariness. “If I fail even once to resist, she will die on my claws.”

“Then do not fail.”

The Barabel’s eyes filled with despair again.  
  
“It feels _impossible,_ Kylo.”

The man eyed his Knight with disquiet, his hand finding his shoulder again.  
  
“I will help you, Cseenan. Tomaxx will help you. And she will mostly be kept by my side; she will not be left alone. Would you dare to attack her in my presence again?”

“I cannot say for true, Master,” Cseenan grumbled dejectedly, “That’s the problem.”

That the Knight was not sure did not bode well, but Kylo refused to believe it was set in stone. 

“We will find a way to help you find control,” he told his Knight. “Perhaps the week away on Phu will lend something there.”

Cseenan sighed, weariness descending upon him. 

“Mayhaps, Master. But I meditated here for hours, and I still feel her scent, digging into my brain, wheedling up my snout worm-wise.”

Kylo winced, sitting back.

“She was bleeding.”

Cseenan’s eyes flashed with a sharp look, his body freezing.

_“What?”_

“Girl was bleeding from where you clawed her. The scent is probably still lingering in here.”

Cseenan’s scales began to ripple with the beginnings of his outrage and Kylo put up placating hands.

“I did not know she was bleeding, Cseenan, I swear. I would not do that to you, I would not do anything to hinder or sway a duel in such a way. You know I wouldn’t.”

The Barabel’s dark eyes searched around them, as if looking for any trace evidence of the injuries. Finally he looked up, gaze narrowed. 

“It explains it. I was not in a right mind. It was not normal.”

Kylo nodded, turning serious. 

“Does it require a rematch?”

Cseenan thought for a long moment, and then shook his head. 

“I made her bleed, I suffered the consequences. No rematch.” 

His brow lowered, pensive, his tail moving languidly behind him.

“One thing, though,”

Kylo opened his palms. “Anything—“

The fist came out of nowhere, slamming into his jaw and wrenching his head and body to the side, his elbow and shoulder hitting the hard durasteel ground when his hand did not move fast enough to catch himself. 

He pushed his torso up once the shock wore off, blinking the stars away, and Cseenan’s clawed finger was in his face when his vision cleared.

_“That’s_ for using mind tricks on me,” the Barabel snarled. “Don’t care if you’re Master, that’s the shit the fucking _ssksh_ did, and you are _not him_.” He chuffed angrily through his nostrils, teeth snapping. “Next time you do that, I’m going to give your pretty face a _reason_ to wear a fucking mask.”

Kylo sagged back down, propped up on his elbow, his other hand rubbing at his aching jaw.

“If I do that again,” he grumbled, “Tomaxx will kill me before you get a chance, believe you me.”

Cseenan snorted, dark humor glinting in his eyes.  
  
“Of course Blue would. Fucking softy he is.”

Kylo smirked, knowing full well Tomaxx would absolutely _reject_ such a notion, and the returning smirk from the Barabel told him he knew it too.

The humor settled between them into something easy, something familiar. 

Kylo looked at his Knight steadily. 

“Are we okay, Cseenan?”

The Barabel gave a long exhale, and then nodded. 

“Better-wise, at least.”

Kylo nodded, the final release of tension within him a small balm for the cracks that remained.

“Good. I can work with that.”

Cseenan stood, then looked down at him and held out a clawed hand. 

Kylo eyed it only for a second before taking it, letting the Knight pull him to his feet. He gave Cseenan a twitch of a smile, clapped him on the shoulder, then moved to get his helmet. 

“Let’s go double-check the list for tomorrow. Tomaxx and I prepped the shuttle but a third eye is never unwelcome.”

“Yes, Master,” Cseenan nodded in a businesslike fashion, his mental walls back up, scales rippling once in a wave as if shaking off the remnants of the utter turmoil he had just experienced. 

It was not typical, the kind of emotional exchange they had just had, but Kylo would not be ashamed of it. _“Peace is a lie, there is only Passion,”_ was written in the Sith Code, and what was more passionate than what they had just spoken of—pain and shame and brotherhood and family? Kylo felt raw, wrung out from guilt and anguish, and _exhausted,_ but also relieved, clear-headed, and determined to do better. 

It would take time, and discipline, and more vigilance than he’s sure he’s ever had to perform, but Kylo knew that he would find a way for his Knights and his slave to coexist cohesively someday, all together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *long-winded exhale* _fuck._ That was a long chapter. 
> 
> But I think we can all agree on these two feelings:
> 
> and 
> 
> MY POOR SNARLY BOI CSEENAN 😭 
> 
> I am very tired and sore today because I hiked a mountain yesterday with my friend (and reader! Shout-out to youuu😘❤️ ) and then drove four hours back home, so if there are any glaring mistakes here I apologize and will find them/fix them ~~someday~~ 😂🙃
> 
> Next chapter: lawd jesus I have not finished it (I've been so busy lately😭😭), so I am hesitant to say anything concrete, but Rey and Kylo have some important interactions 👀 ~~probably~~  
>  Posting date: Like I said, the chapter isn't done yet, plus I will be hella busy all this weekend so I won't have time to write, so next posting date is _tentatively_ **Tuesday, November 3rd at 9PM Japan time.**  
>  (Let's be real, we Americans gonna need the distraction 😬😬 💥GO VOTE💥).
> 
> If for whatever reason I can't make that date and time, I will post about it on my [Tumblr. ](http://veggieheist.tumblr.com)  
> Thank you in advance for your patience and understanding!! ❤️😭 
> 
> Also, Happy Halloween/Samhain in advance!!🎃👻🎃


	62. The Problem with Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12,299
> 
> That's how many words this chapter has now that I've edited it since finishing it yesterday. This is almost three normal chapters combined into one.  
> I thought about splitting it, but I don't want to 🥴 
> 
> E N J O Y

* * *

Rey watched Lord Ren leave the rooms from her vantage point behind the geometric wall, her heart pounding and her stomach churning when her eyes landed upon Lord Tomaxx. He turned from the door when it closed and she quickly looked down at her lap, the blinking yellow light of the blood pressure wrist band reminding her to breathe and try to remain calm, lest the alarm went off and drew more attention towards her. 

_Maker,_ she did _not_ want to be left alone with Lord Tomaxx. Especially not after what he did, and especially because she was sure her master had talked to him about the Situation room thing, and she was sure he was going to retaliate somehow now, and she was practically _trapped_ here with him—

Her wristband began to beep a shrill alert, and Rey tried to muffle it against her stomach, bending over her lap, closing her eyes and breathing, _just don’t think about it, just pretend he’s not here, Lord Ren said he wouldn’t hurt me, I should trust him._

The alarm quieted after a minute, but Rey stayed hunched over, eyes closed, breathing. She couldn’t hear anything else, which helped her pretend she was alone, although the Knight's dark oily presence in the air made it difficult. 

When she finally sat up and opened her eyes, she flinched and swallowed down a yelp to see the Knight standing just feet away, looking at the shelves. 

She stiffened, the air barely moving in her lungs, her whole body prickling with unease. He was so silent, so quiet on his feet. She could only imagine how terrifying it would be to be followed by him, a soundless shadow, but not in a mirroring friend sort of way. No, this shadow tortures. 

This shadow kills. 

He did not move much except for his head, slowly scanning the items on display. After a minute his rattling voice spoke up lowly,

“Have you touched any of these?”

Rey blinked, shook her head vehemently.   
  
“No sir, never. Lord Ren told me not to.”

Did he think she did? Lord Ren had said he would know if she did, could Lord Tomaxx somehow tell as well? 

But she didn’t touch them. None of them. She was a good slave, an obedient slave. 

Lord Tomaxx continued to look at the shelves, and then his hand came up to hover over a simple latched box. 

Rey almost said something, almost told him not to touch anything, a protectiveness flaring within her. These were her master’s things, and as far as she was aware no one but her master had permission to touch them. Plus, she also did not want to be blamed for the items being disturbed.

But Lord Tomaxx did not make contact, merely hovered. 

“Probably for the best,” he murmured after a moment, his hand lowering. Rey’s relief was cut short when he turned towards her, his black visor stark against the silver skull lines of his mask. 

Rey lowered her gaze quickly, hands grasped tightly in her lap, back straight and feet flat on the cold floor. 

“Cozy little nest you have now,” he said.

Rey eyed her bed, a shame rising within her.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” she admitted quietly. 

There was a pause and then, 

“Why not?” He asked. “Even the droids have somewhere to sleep.”

Before she could voice any sort of reply, Lord Tomaxx’s comm chimed, and he lifted it.

_“Tomaxx,_ ” came the electronic voice of Lord Ren.

“Yes, Master,” the Knight replied. 

_“I found him. You can leave.”_

There was a minute relaxing of Lord Tomaxx’s shoulders at that. Rey was also relieved, although it was only because now there was one less Knight for her to worry about, and, now she’d be left alone. 

“Is he in the training room?” Lord Tomaxx asked.

_“Yes.”_

The Knight tilted his head. “Still?”

_“Seems so. Go eat.”_

“Yes, Master.” 

He lowered the comm, but did not move to leave, looking down at Rey again. 

She felt like she was going to have another blood pressure meltdown if he did not vacate the little area she now resided, _immediately._

“Why don’t you deserve a bed?” He asked again, and Rey glanced up at him, stressed. 

She didn’t know what kind of answer he was looking for. Did he want her to validate whatever notion he was implying about her worth? Did he want her to say that she was trash? That a blanket on the cold floor was almost too good for her? Or was he genuinely curious about why she thought she didn’t deserve something that was apparently a basic necessity, according to her master?

If she answered wrongly, what would he do? 

If she answered at all, would he go away?

She lowered her head, finding the truest words and hoping they would be enough. 

“I…I don’t know, sir.” 

He observed her silently for another long moment.

Rey felt the pull of so many conflicted emotions tugging at her mind, straining it. Shame, confusion, fear, unease, frustration. She trembled from her efforts to keep them under control, to keep them inside. 

Lord Tomaxx gave a grating sigh, and another jolt pierced Rey. She was annoying him, he was going to do something, correct her somehow, but she didn’t know _what he wanted her to do—_

“Master said Cseenan got you with his claws,” he murmured. “He said he patched you up.”

Rey nodded silently. 

“You should verbally respond,” the Knight told her.

“Yessir,” she rasped quickly, a sudden urge to cry making her eyes burn. Why was he still here? What did he want from her?

“I’m sure the bacta and disinfectant will do a good job of it,” he continued, “but Cseenan’s claws are truly filthy, and there is a very real risk of an infection. I will go bring a strong antibiotic for you, as a precaution.”

Rey looked up at him, the turmoil suddenly overcome by her confusion and wariness. 

“If you get sick while we are away, it will distract Master,” he said in explanation. 

Well she certainly did _not_ want that, especially if Lord Ren could sense it.

She nodded in understanding, remembering to say, “Thank you, sir.”

He gave a fraction of a nod in acknowledgment, and then finally moved away. 

Rey waited until he was out of the rooms and the door had closed before releasing a shaky breath, a not-quite sob— more of a tearful gasp. She relished in the small catharsis that came with the relief of emotional tension, but quickly wiped her face, sniffling, pushing it all back again. Lord Tomaxx would return and she did not want him to see her crying like this. 

She rose to her feet, and, grabbing both datapads, she tottered down the stair and around to the couch. She did not want him back in her little space. It wasn’t hers, not really, and she had no right to keep him out, but she did not like him there regardless. 

As Rey waited stiffly, she had a whole-body shock at the thought that the antibiotics the Knight was bringing might need to be applied to the wounds directly, and what if he wanted to apply it himself, what if he told her to take off her pants—

_No, it’s probably a capsule, stop freaking yourself out, stupid._

But still, her hands were sweating in their tight grip on the fabric of her thighs when Lord Tomaxx returned a minute or so later. He appeared to have a small metal jar in his hand with what was probably a topical treatment. Rey’s whole body clenched as he approached her.

“This is a strong antibiotic salve,” he told her as he held the jar out to her. After a moment Rey realized he was just giving it to her, and raised her hand to receive it as he continued speaking. “Apply it to the wounds when you change the dressings before bed, and in the morning. Just twice should be fine, but keep using it if it starts to show signs of infection.”

“Okay,” Rey nodded with knitted brows, relief allowing her other hand to loosen from its death grip on her pants. She tacked on another quick, “thank you, sir,” her hand closing around the item, pulled towards her chest, head lowered and shoulders tense. 

Was he going to leave now?

“Why do you have that?” He asked, and she followed his gaze to their master’s datapad beside her. 

Rey kept her head lowered, regretting having brought the device because now he was still here, _not going away,_ and the band on her wrist was blinking yellow again. 

“He let me use it, to do mind puzzles,” she explained. 

“Ah,” he murmured. “The cognition program. How far did you get?”

Rey’s chest was beginning to ache. 

“Not very far, sir,” she answered quietly to her lap. “I fell asleep.” She managed to get through five, actually, and had moved to the bed in order to use the different position and scenery to help her see the new problem in a different way, but none of that mattered right now because she just wanted him to _leave._

There was another long pause that ended with a rattling sigh. 

“I don’t know if this is an act,” Lord Tomaxx droned, “but if you remain this pitiful while in our charge for much longer, you are going to become very bothersome. More so than you already have.”

The words were like a knife straight into her heart, and she swallowed painfully past the growing lump in her throat. She was pitiful, she was bothersome. And what was worse was that it wasn’t an act. 

“From what I saw,” he continued, “you were not quite this way on Jakku.”

Oh, _Maker,_ now he was bringing up her _memories,_ the ones he rifled through like he was a thief sifting through a pile of precious cloth. 

“You need to toughen up, or you’re not going to survive out here,” he concluded. “And you’ll probably get one of us killed in the meantime as well. Do you understand?”

“Yessir,” Rey replied, a broken whisper, a moment away from shattering. And then, hoping to appease him and remind him of a potential meal waiting for him not here, she straightened her back, lifting her eyes to chest-height, swallowing bile and willing herself to sound slightly less ‘pitiful’.

“Thank you for the salve,” she repeated. “I’m sorry to be a bother. I hope your meal has not gotten cold.” 

_Leave. Get out. Go. Please._

“As I said,” he murmured, “it’s not good for our mission if Master Kylo is distracted, and you seem to be a very big distraction for him.”

“I’ll do my best to not be, sir.” She swallowed again, forcing out, “Thank you.”

After another silent dip of his mask, Lord Tomaxx turned and disappeared out the door.

It took five minutes after the Knight left for Rey to feel like she could move without shattering into a thousand pieces. When she did finally move, it was to the ‘fresher to deposit the jar and stand numbly gripping the sink, swallowing down the urge to throw up. 

She was being ridiculous. She knew she was, but she still couldn’t help the welling of tears. 

Pitiful tears, for a pitiful girl. 

At that thought she shook her head, disrupting the bubbling mix of self-pity and disgust and replacing it with self-hatred and disgust. It was far more productive this way—feeling sorry for herself had never gotten her anything. At least being angry at herself typically motivated her to be better. 

She drank a handful of water, washed the tears from her face, and then went back to her spot on the couch to distract herself with the cognition program again.

The satisfaction she got from solving the first problem had been near overwhelming. It had brought a wetness to her eyes as she’d excitedly laughed with a joyful breathlessness that had felt so foreign after going so long without any reason to laugh at all. 

Solving it reminded her she was capable of doing things, things that required more than just physical labor. She was smart, she could figure out problems, she could find solutions. 

Maybe if she got far enough with the cognition program Lord Ren would be impressed. _Surely he’s solved all of them, though_ , Rey thought. Maybe he wouldn’t be impressed. Maybe he thought she was too dumb and only gave it to keep her busy while he managed more important things. 

_“She’s far more proficient in things than you know, and you’d do well to remember that,”_ he’d said to Captain Greev earlier. 

He’d said it before she’d even been able to prove to him she was ‘proficient’ in anything. Did he just say that to save face, not wanting to seem like he’d been burdened with a stupid, illiterate slave? Or did he actually think she was capable of more than he’d been witness to so far? 

Suddenly the pressure to meet his expectations was enough to make the monitor blink yellow. She did not want to disappoint him. She did not want to prove everyone who thought she was a stupid slave that they were right. She did not want to prove herself and her master wrong. 

_I am proficient in things,_ she thought as she picked up the datapad again. _I’m going to solve all of these levels._

She got through another one by the time the door chimed and let FX-8 in. She was glad he was here, because she was actually finding herself to be _hungry_ for the first time in what felt like forever.

It was a familiar pain in her abdomen, like an old friend, like a beloved enemy. It brought some panic to the back of her mind, a reminder of times when food was not as sure a thing as here, a reminder that food could just as easily disappear should she upset the powers-that-be on the ship. 

But it was also a reminder that she was alive, and that she was healing. Although, out of all the indicators that she was getting better, feeling hunger again was not one she would have chosen to ever experience again. 

She offered a finger for the blood test when the droid prompted, and then waited.

<your hemoglobin levels have dropped again> the droid told her. <you are more anemic now than this morning. This is unusual>

Rey’s brow knitted in guilt and worry, almost tempted to tell the droid about her blood loss but kept silent at remembering how Lord Ren didn’t want the medbay to know. 

“Does this mean I have to get another iron injection?” She asked instead.

<No. A capsule will suffice>

She breathed a sigh of relief. She hated needles. 

<How are your symptoms?>

She sat and thought for a moment.

“I feel normal, I think. Maybe a bit tired. Definitely hungry.” Her legs were throbbing a little, but it was bearable. 

<you are experiencing hunger pains?>

Rey nodded, her hand finding her hollow stomach. 

“Yes. I think it’s the first time since before I went into the bacta tank, actually.”

<This is positive news. I will report this to the medbay>

Rey wondered if the captain would find anything positive about it, but decided that not thinking about the woman was a better idea for now. 

She gladly accepted the cup of broth and small iron supplement capsule, swallowing it down with a wince and a cough. The broth was still potent, but she was getting used to it, and she was determined to drink it all normally as she had the luncheon one. 

It was after FX-8 left that she remembered the cup on Lord Ren’s bedside table, and she mentally kicked herself for not asking the droid to take it back with him. Maybe the medbay could have saved it somehow, or at least gotten rid of it out of sight from her. 

Because she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to do it. 

It was such a waste to throw it out. There was no way it had gone bad in half a days’ time. And as Rey got up and went to it, picked it up, swirled the contents, she knew it was fine. It didn’t even smell rancid. 

Plus she’d finished her broth and was still feeling a little empty, still feeling that nipping anxiety in the back of her mind that this meal might be her last for a long time, and so she needed to consume whatever was available. 

Lord Ren was leaving tomorrow morning, so who knows what could happen. They could decide she wasn’t worth the effort and resources and only give her one meal a day. They could stop feeding her altogether. She was just a slave, just a nobody. She needed to do whatever she could to survive on her own, because no one was going to give a shit about her once her master was gone.

She needed to drink this.

And so she did. 

_It’s fine,_ she thought as she went to the ’fresher to wash the now empty cup. _He won’t even notice. He probably forgot all about it. It’s been taken care of, it’s out of sight now, it doesn’t matter._

But as she went back to the couch to resume the cognition program, there was a buzzing sense of unease, of apprehension in her chest. _It’s fine_ , she told herself again. _He’ll forget. It’ll be fine._

It was five minutes or so later when she was finally sinking into the mind twists from the datapad that she felt a sudden bloom of tingling on her left cheek and right shoulder, and she gasped, her hand coming up to touch the spot. This didn’t feel like the usual tingling brought on by Lord Ren’s spasms. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost think he just got hit in the face by something. 

There was no other tingling once it wore off though, so Rey decided it must not have been anything too serious and decidedly put it aside in her mind. 

Some time later, she was sitting on the floor with her back to the front of the couch, legs stretched out, brow furrowed and wholly focused on the problem shown on the datapad screen in her hands, when the door chimed. Rey jolted at the sudden sound, sitting up. After a beat she shakily rose to her feet, wincing from the jostling of her wounds, and then the door opened, revealing a squarish droid. 

Rey looked at it, not recognizing it as from the kitchen or the medbay. She was about to ask what sector it came from, when its photosensor eye focused on her and it beeped, rolling forward. 

<delivery item for Kylo Ren> it informed her as it approached. 

Oh. A delivery droid. 

“I can receive it for him,” she said, placing the datapad down on the couch and going to meet it. 

It beeped in acquiescence and a screen lit up atop its head. 

<please place your hand on the scanner to receive item>

She did so, waiting as it processed the print of her palm, and then a light flashed blue with a beep.

<handprint confirmed and recorded, KR02. Please take your item>

A large compartment opened on its front, revealing a rectangular metal box about the same height and width as a datapad, but about two inches thick. 

Rey took it, and the compartment closed, the droid beeping a <delivery confirmed> before pivoting and going out the way it came.

She looked down at the box in her hands with curiosity burning in her mind, but she resolutely took it to her master’s bedroom and left it on the table, then returned to the couch and her current cognition problem. Whatever was in the box was for Lord Ren and she would respect his privacy.

She was also sure he would absolutely burn her nerves with the Force if she did something so foolhardy as open his packages without his permission, so it was no difficult thing to leave it and forget about it. 

Although, upon seeing the empty bedside table Rey realized her decision to drink the leftover broth was going to result in much of the same punishment. It finally registered in her head—too little, too late— that it didn’t matter that it would have been a waste, it didn’t matter that she was afraid of not being fed. She shouldn’t have drank it. She shouldn’t have disobeyed. 

She was so stupid. _Stupid, bad slave._

Lord Ren had displayed such restraint during his tending to her wounds. He had basically told her he was sorry for all the ways he had hurt her up til now, he had told her he was going to try to be less violent. 

And here she was, proving that she deserved a heavy hand. Proving she did not deserve any kindness, any leniency. 

She was a rotten slave, and if she thought it would do any good she would force herself to throw up whatever was left in her stomach now as a penance for her deed. She deserved neither the nutrients nor the water. 

But she knew that somehow Lord Ren would sense it, she knew he would know, and it would make him even more mad. So she kept herself on the couch and tried to keep her mind busy, tried to keep herself occupied with the problems, because otherwise she was going to think herself into a panic attack. 

The band on her wrist teetered between flashing blue and flashing yellow as she sat, her mind occasionally remembering what she was trying to ignore. And then after an hour or so of fighting off waves of panic with bouts of deep cognitive focus, she could feel Lord Ren and Cseenan getting closer, and her body prickled with unease and guilt and dread. 

_Calm down, stupid. He’ll sense it, he’ll know something is wrong. Just pretend everything is fine, maybe he won’t notice, maybe he’ll be distracted._

Lord Cseenan’s gritty presence receded, and then the door opened a minute later for her master. 

There was a relaxed air to him now, and it helped Rey to relax herself—if only a fraction. Whatever had happened between himself and Lord Cseenan, it seemed that things were better. Or, at least, they weren’t _worse,_ because otherwise Lord Ren would be _not relaxed_ and _frigid._

This was good for her. It was always good when her masters were in a good mood; It meant they were less likely to be too harsh on her, and Rey might need that now more than ever.

Although, she wasn’t quite sure about this master. His rage was unlike anything she’d experienced before. And even though he said he would try to control himself, she knew believing that was naive and idiotic. She had to protect herself. She had to assume the worst, because his supposed change of heart was probably an act to get her guard down, and she did not want to be yanked around. 

Vins used to pretend to be nice too. It never lasted, and it was never truly for good reasons. It seemed almost like she would pretend to be kind on purpose to get Rey and the other children’s hopes up, to lure them into a false sense of security, and then she’d turn around and beat them until they couldn’t walk, throw one of them at random to the creatures of the desert and laugh at the screams. 

_Don’t think about that,_ she told herself sharply, closing her eyes and shaking the memories away. 

“Having trouble?” Lord Ren asked, walking closer, and Rey looked up with a jolt.

He indicated to the datapad clutched tightly in her hands. 

“The puzzles. Have you gotten stuck?”

Rey blinked and looked down.

“Oh. Um. A little,” she said, voice small. “But I think I can figure it out, Sir. Maybe.”

“Hm,” he hummed coming closer, craning to see the screen. Rey turned it so he could see and he lightly grasped it, moving to sit down on the empty space of the couch beside her. She moved over as inconspicuously as possible to give him more room, although there was space enough between them for a whole other person to sit. She was uncertain if it was appropriate for her to be on the same couch as a master, but he hadn’t told her to get off so, she would just make herself smaller. 

“Ah. I remember this one.” He said, releasing the datapad back to her and leaning back casually, his arm going to the armrest. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll try,” she replied quietly, not wanting to promise anything in case this was truly the last one she would ever accomplish. 

There was a strange pause wherein Rey almost got up from her seat, thinking he was waiting for her to move, but then he spoke.

“I see that you managed to keep yourself from breaking your neck,” he said with a wry tone.

Like earlier when he had seemingly poked fun at her knack for injuries and illness, Rey was slightly taken aback and unsure how to respond. But, like earlier, she decided that matching his tone might be safe. 

Her brow furrowed and she looked askance. 

“It was difficult, Sir, but I resisted the temptation to fling myself neck-first to the floor.”

“Did you now.”

“Yessir.” Rey looked pointedly at the datapad in her hands. “Also I’m too focused on beating all of these mind problems to go and break my neck anytime soon.”

His head tilted. “Ah, well, then I supposed I can cancel the order to put foam mats on all the hard surfaces.” 

Rey gave a small nod, her courage dwindling, and quietly added, “I wouldn’t bother the droids.”

Although she was stressed from the exchange, she felt some satisfaction at the flare of amusement she could sense from the master. 

“Hm.” He watched her for a breath and then gestured to her legs. “How are your wounds?”

“Still tolerable, Sir,” she answered honestly. And then she remembered the tingling on her cheek and looked up.

“Did you—“ she cut herself off, realizing that asking him anything to do with his own injuries and pain might still be off-limits. Might still make him mad.

“Did I what?”

She stayed still for an anxious moment, mind whirling with indecision, and then her left hand came up to her jaw, her eyes flickering hesitantly. 

“You felt something?” He asked. 

She nodded tensely. 

“I’m not surprised,” he mumbled, looking away. “Cseenan punched me in the face. It caught me off-guard, otherwise I would have blocked it.”

Rey looked at him in slight horror at the thought, wondering how the Barabel was even alive anymore, although it wasn’t as if she’d shed a tear if he had been killed for such a thing.

“It’s fine,” Lord Ren told her, apparently mistaking her expression for horror on his behalf. “I deserved it.”

At that admission she frowned. 

“Why?”

“For using the Force to Influence him—to make him go down to the training room.”

Oh, she almost forgot about that: The hypnotic thing he did to the Knight. 

“How…did you do that?” She asked. “What was that?” 

He looked away again. “It’s a way to use the Force to manipulate another person’s mind, make them think or do certain things.” He paused, and gave a small shake of his head, his voice lowering. “I shouldn’t have done it to him.”

“Why not?” Rey asked. It had seemed like nothing else was going to make him go away. Rey suddenly wished she had access to this power, because she would have been very glad to make Lord Tomaxx leave her alone. _Forever._

Lord Ren looked back at her. “Because he is my apprentice and my Knight. My brother as well, in a sense. And it is disrespectful for me to manipulate his mind like that.”

_Then why did you do it_ , she wanted to ask, but she knew his answer would be along the lines of what he told her earlier: His anger, his loss of control. 

“I do not enjoy such mental manipulations,” he murmured further. “So if you’re wondering if I’d ever use it on you, don’t worry yourself.”

“I would not judge you if you did, Sir,” Rey told him. “I have no right to resist such a thing.”  
  
“With your mind as open as it is now, there would be no resisting at all,” he told her in a low tone, and it sent a jolt of fear through her. Was she so pliable? Would the Knights ever use it on her? 

He continued, “Cseenan was only able to resist at first because he has much stronger mental defenses. But that matters not, because your mental openness does not give me free rein to do with your mind what I want. Do not think I am going to do that to you.” He turned his head away. “The mere idea offends me.”

This was further proof to Rey of her master’s contradictory nature—his strange brand of monstrosity. It made her head spin, but perhaps even monsters have limits.

Rey decided she wasn’t going to complain.

Lord Ren’s fingers curled into a fist on his thigh. “The Knights and I had an agreement—implied though it was—that we do not do it to each other, so the fact I broke that agreement was something of a grave offense. Even Tomaxx as good as struck me earlier with his words on the matter, and I let him do so with impunity.”

Rey had a hard time imagining that, but if it was so grave an offense that even Lord Ren allowed himself to be scolded for it, she supposed she could understand it. She understood the need to be reprimanded all too well.

“But for people outside the group, and outside the First Order, there is less care.” He gave her a pointed tilt of his head. “You are part of the group, so don’t start having a fit.”

“Yessir,” Rey mumbled, averting her face, trying to calm her worries. She was sure that the Knights would probably end up using this Force hypnosis on her someday, but there was nothing to do about it. She didn’t want to cause more problems between her master and his apprentices, so should it ever happen—and should she remember it—she probably wouldn’t say anything in order to keep the peace. 

Lord Ren lapsed into a thoughtful silence, and Rey sat awkwardly wondering if there was something she should be doing now, some chore. Then she remembered the droid from earlier.

“Something came for you, Sir,” she said. “A delivery. I put it on the table.” Rey got up to retrieve it, returning to hand it to Lord Ren. He took it, and Rey looked away respectfully as he opened it. After a moment he closed it again without a word, and stood, moving back into the bedroom. 

Whatever was in the box, it was not for her eyes after all, Rey thought, moving the datapad to sit again. 

When Lord Ren returned, he picked up Rey’s device from the couch arm, tapping at it, and she watched in the corner of her eye nervously. After a minute he offered it to her.

“Here, I added the program to your ‘pad. I’m going to need mine back for work now.”

“Oh,” Rey quickly exchanged devices with him. “Thank you, Sir.”

He sat back down. “You’ll have to redo the ones you’ve already solved, but it shouldn’t be too much of a bother since the answers are fresh in your mind.”

“Yessir.”

He navigated his screen, leaning forward with elbows propped on his knees, a casualness about him that struck Rey while she looked at him. They'd had casual moments before now for certain, but once again she recognized the lack of tension in his frame this time. Before she wouldn’t have noticed, but now she could sense the difference. 

Perhaps being punched in the face by Lord Cseenan had been needed as much as deserved.

“Did you get a supplement?” Lord Ren asked with an absentmindedness belying his current distraction. 

“Yessir,” Rey answered, breathing steadily, keeping her mind clear, hoping he would move on.

“And you drank it all?”

“Yessir.”

“Good,” he mumbled. “I’d rather like to avoid getting more flak from Greev.”

Rey sat, breathing. Waiting. Concentrating on the screen in her hands. A breath. Two breaths. Three, Fou—

“And what of the leftover cup?” He asked, still tapping away, swiping through files.  
  
Rey held herself still. 

“I took care of it, Sir.”

It seemed like he was going to accept the answer with a nod, but then he stopped and looked at her. Rey felt her heart pick up. _Shit._

“Does that mean you did as I said and threw it out, or does that mean you drank it?”

Rey breathed, adrenaline making her heart ache and a cold sweat break out. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed, her gaze falling to the floor.

He sat up and turned more fully towards her when she did not respond right away.

“Girl,” he said, a warning.

Rey shrank in her seat. 

“I drank it, Sir,” she confessed quietly. 

* * *

~~O*O~~

* * *

Kylo felt the air around him turn cold, his whole body tensing. 

“You drank it?” 

Girl was as still as a statue, looked to be barely breathing.

“Yessir.”

“You disobeyed me,” he said, and the words rang in his mind. 

_She disobeyed me. She purposefully went against my order, and then she tried to sneak her way out of it._

He had finally been enjoying some ease of tension, some stability, an understanding between himself and the slave, and now here she was almost making him regret having said anything to her earlier at all. Had he been too quick to tell her he was trying to be less violent, and was she now testing it? Did she think him a fool?

But she wasn’t at the table. She was here, on the couch, even though she could have gone and waited for him there, she could have protected herself and truly tested his own self-imposed rules. 

Which meant she was probably either thinking that she’d somehow get away with lying about it, or she was prepared to bear the brunt of his anger here, now. 

And oh, he was _angry._ He did not like people disobeying him, but he _hated_ liars even more. 

The datapad creaked in his grip. A familiar roar sounded from afar, like a wave coming from somewhere deep in a cave. The more he thought about it all and the words repeated in his mind, the more he itched to wrap the Force around her throat and remind her that she was his slave, that he was to be obeyed, that even attempting to lie or be dishonest was grounds for terrible punishment, as she had already experienced. His vision wavered with red, his thoughts clawing and his grasp on the Force tightening.

_Remind her who you are. Make her never forget._

Kylo turned his head, the air freezing, the wave rushing closer. 

With careful movements he set his datapad down on the couch arm, stood slowly, kept his fists at his sides, and walked back out to the corridor. 

As soon as the door shut behind him he felt the frigid heat explode out of him, and with a shout his fist found the wall, the Force lacing through the swing so that when it landed it nearly cratered the durasteel panel there. He pulled back and hit again, and then once more. The panel sparked where it connected with a light fixture, the glow blinking out. 

He stood there, breathing, fighting the urge to hit the wall again, fighting the urge to go back in to the room and do something that would either hurt or terrify the girl. He knew it would make him feel better, make him feel powerful, but he knew also that it would only make things worse. It would only make him more of a failure. 

He wanted Girl to listen to him, to follow his orders, to not lie.

But he did not want her to flinch from him anymore. He did not want her fear. 

_I don’t want her fear_ , he thought on repeat. _Her fear is dangerous to herself and to us. I don’t want her fear._

But she disobeyed. She needed to know there were consequences for not following his orders. He couldn’t _not_ punish her for this. But how can he do that, without making her more afraid? The only things he could think of were physically strenuous, and she was too weak still for that. 

Then Kylo felt a tingling above his knees and frowned, quickly turning and opening the door to walk back in. Girl was kneeling on the floor, her face tight with pain and guilt and shame and _fear._

Kylo stood still, looking down at her, his mind racing. He knew she was probably reopening the wounds on her legs with this, and a part of him relished in the pain he knew she was feeling. He crossed his arms and watched for a moment. Then, deciding that her masochistic display was no longer needed, he sneered, “Are you done?”

He thought she would nod and get up, but instead she set her face and gripped her legs _hard_ above the knees, an expression of barely contained agony twisting her features with a strangled cry as the pain bloomed, erupting as sharp prickles on Kylo’s skin. 

Well it seemed the decision was made for him about what to do, because she was evidently punishing herself. And although he felt vindictive enough to let her go on, he knew it would only cause more problems if she did.  
  
“Enough,” he commanded, and then when she didn’t stop he dropped his arms, taking steps forward, “I said _enough.”_

When he was a foot away she finally pulled her hands back towards her torso, head bowed, shoulders hunched, cowering. She shook and gasped through the pain, through silent tears. 

Kylo sighed gruffly, squeezing his eyes shut for a breath, counting down from ten before opening and looking down. 

“Get up,” he told her in a low tone. “Go check your wounds in the ‘fresher and wash your face. Then come back here.”

“Y-yessir,” she whispered, her voice cracking and thick. She kept her face down as she used the couch to push herself up to her feet, but she stumbled, her legs unsteady, and Kylo clutched at her arm to keep her from falling. Girl flinched violently away with a strangled whine, half falling on the couch in her attempt to get away. 

“‘m s-sorry,” she whimpered, her defensive arm lowering stiffly.

“Stop crying,” he growled, “and go do as I say.”

She nodded shakily and stood again, moving quickly and rigidly to his bedroom, disappearing around the doorway. 

Kylo heard the ‘fresher door close and he sat on the couch, lifting his helmet to rub a hand down his face, pressed his fingers to his eyes until sparks bloomed in the darkness. His fist ached and he realized that Girl probably felt him punching the wall. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning back. He stared at the ceiling, berating himself for a minute, then smoothed his hair back and put on his helmet again. 

When Girl came back her face was clean of tears, although her eyes and nose were red, and she stopped several feet away. There was a miserable resignation to her, a foreboding, her whole body tense, her hands grasped tightly, worrying. 

“Come here,” Kylo told her, and she took slow steps closer to stand before him. She had taken off the blood pressure band, which was probably for the best because it would probably have been shrieking by now. Kylo could see her pulse pounding in her neck.

“Are your wounds bleeding again?” He asked.

“Just a little,” she rasped. 

“They’re going to scar if you don’t let them heal, and I’m sure you don’t want a daily reminder of today for the rest of your life.”

“No, Sir.”

His voice hardened, “Then _don’t_ do that again.”

She gave a shaky nod. “Yessir.”

Kylo took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, trying to settle the frigidity threatening to come out again. 

“Why did you disobey me?” He finally asked. “Why did you drink it?”

Girl flushed with shame. 

“I don’t know, Sir.”

She was lying. 

Kylo clenched his fists, closed his eyes, _control, Kylo, stay calm, don’t hurt her._

“I’ll ask you one last time,” he slowly ground out. “Why did you drink it?”

She gave a shuddering sigh, a surrender, her face turning away as if it would help hide the humiliation she was radiating.

“I…I was hungry.” 

This was technically good news, because it meant her appetite was coming back. But the timing was decidedly _not_ favorable.   
  
Kylo remembered Girl was apparently conditioned to eat anything she could in order to survive, it had not been very long since he’d brought her aboard, and she hadn’t had an actual meal in even longer. He should have realized she wouldn’t have been able to throw the leftovers away by herself. It was almost cruel to ask her to do so.

Another thoughtless mistake.

He continued, some of his anger having simmered down, but still unable to completely rid his tone of the cold gruffness he felt. 

“Why did you lie?”

Her whole body trembled, her arms wrapping around her middle tightly. 

“I thought it wouldn’t be a problem, Sir.”

Kylo scowled. 

“It _is_ a problem when I can’t trust the people I surround myself with. It _is_ a problem when it could affect your health. What if you get sick?”

She was silent, face twitching with what seemed to be a concerted effort to keep herself from crying. Guilt ravaged the air around her, a white noise in her churning thoughts of self-ridicule and angst.

“I’ve spent a lot of time and effort keeping you alive, trying to make you better,” Kylo added. “It is insulting to me that you would disregard your body and health because when you do, it is a disregard of my efforts as well. Do you understand?” 

She swallowed, nodding. “Yessir.” Then, “I’m s—.” Her lips pressed together, her eyes squeezed shut in an expression of self-reproach.

Kylo waited until she was settled enough to open her eyes again, her face bleak, before he gestured to the door of his room.

“Why didn’t you sit at the table? You could have told me there instead of trying to lie about it.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. 

His fists creaked. “I don’t like liars, Girl. You know this by now. The next time you feel the urge to lie about something, _don’t._ That’s what the Table is for. What did I tell you about it?”

“You said anything I say there is free from punishment.”

He nodded. “That’s right. Because I need to trust you, I need to trust that you will tell me the truth about things. And, I need _you_ to trust _me_ so that when I make decisions for your sake, you obey me. I know it’s difficult, I know it won’t be easy. But it is important for both of us to make efforts towards better trust, understand?”

“Yessir.”

He leaned forward, catching her gaze. 

“Do not lie to me again, or skirt the truth.”

Her head bobbed. “Yessir.”

Kylo moved back, fists pressed to his thighs, still feeling a slight prickling there.

“I think you’ve punished yourself enough as it is, so I won’t do anything this time. But if you get sick between now and tomorrow morning I’m dropping you off in the medbay for the week. Understand?”

She gave a stressed look, a forlorn nod, sniffling. Then after a beat she rasped, “I’m sorry about your hand, Sir.”

Kylo looked down at his knuckles, flexing the appendage. It was likely only bruised; nothing like what happened when he lost his temper in the ‘fresher and bloodied it.

“It’s nothing,” he told her, glancing up. “Don’t apologize for things you have no control over.”

She deflated with an unconvincing, “Okay.”

Kylo was sure this was not going to be the last time they would have a conversation like this, but he hoped the next time would involve less tears and far less trembling. 

Girl’s thoughts were a swirling mass of _nothing good,_ and it reminded Kylo of what he had promised to do with her when he got back: Build mental walls. She was far too emotionally unsettled right now to attempt any meditation, in fact she looked like she was going to faint right about now. But later when she was more composed he decided he would try to guide her. 

Kylo motioned to the side of the couch where she had sat before. 

“Get your datapad and sit, before you collapse.”

She looked relieved as she gave a quiet word of obedience and moved to perch stiffly on the edge of the cushion, practically pressed against the arm. Kylo rolled his eyes and told himself he was only shifting closer to the opposite side in order to be able to more comfortably lounge. If Girl was going to be uncomfortable, that was her problem. They had been sitting at the same table for days now. Sitting on the couch was barely any different. 

After several minutes wherein Kylo was trying to busy himself with holonet news and articles, Girl seemed to relax some, her sniffles dying down with the smoothing tumultuousness of her mind. He tried to glance at her as inconspicuously as possible, noting the intense scrutiny she was giving the screen in her hands, how she gave a small sigh of consternation every now and then. She also seemed to subconsciously want to draw her legs up, because twice she started to, only to stop, a tingle betraying the pain she must have felt from the movement. 

It was about an hour later when she took in a sharp inhale, tapping at the device purposefully, and then gave a gasp, the air about her flaring with excitement and triumph.

Kylo looked over, and she smoothed her features as best she could, her arms drawing in a fraction.

“Did you figure it out?” He asked her. 

Her eyes glinted with restrained happiness, lips pressed together in a line, and she nodded, showing him the stamp of success on the problem. He glanced at it but found himself more drawn to her expression. He had seen a similar hint of joy when she had first tried on her boots, the faint ghost of a smile catching his attention at the time as well. There was pride and self-satisfaction in the guarded set of her face now, and he decided that it was a much better look for her than her usual miserable mug. 

It had been a huge exercise in trust when he’d given her his datapad to try the cognition program, and now he was very glad that he had. 

“Very good,” he told her, and he caught another glimpse of a gleeful twitch of her eyes before it was lost with the turn and tuck of her chin, although she could not hide the warm glow coming from her in the Force.  
  
Kylo observed it, something satisfactory unraveling in his chest at the sight, and then he looked away.

It seemed that now was as good a time as any to start trying to meditate, he thought, now that she was no longer a bottomless pit of turmoil and despair. 

Some anticipation, some small sense of excitement, lit up within him at the thought. He enjoyed being a teacher, he enjoyed showing others how to access parts of the Force they had never known. His Knights rarely needed this kind of instruction anymore, but Kylo remembered how it was in the beginning, he remembered the elation he had sensed from Tomaxx and Cseenan upon having greater access to their minds and powers, how much more settled they were knowing they could protect their minds better.

And now it was Girl’s turn, even if it wasn’t for quite the same reasons.   
  
Kylo took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then stood. He unclipped his saber to place on the arm of the couch by his datapad and tried to ignore how Girl stiffened and tracked his movements with the peripherals of her eyes.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sit on the floor?” He asked, turning to her.

She looked up, confused. 

“Sir?”

“Posture is important for the kind of meditation we will be doing to fortify your mind. We won’t be crouching the way we did in the medbay.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting in small surprise.

“You’re still going to show me…?”

“Yes,” he told her. “It’s important for you to be able to control the volume of your thoughts.” 

_Plus I don’t like how you can sense things from me._

She nodded, cleared her throat. 

“I think I can, as long as it’s not kneeling.”

Kylo moved to the center of the room and sat cross legged, motioning for Girl to do the same across from him. 

She did, gingerly lowering herself to sit about three feet away, adjusting the fabric of her pants so that it was loose around her knees and thighs. 

Kylo watched her for a beat as she got comfortable. 

“How’s the pain?”

She gave a noncommittal shrug. 

“It’s not too bad, Sir. Just some small twinges.”

He couldn’t feel anything to contradict her answer so he nodded. 

“Okay. If it gets too bad and you lose focus, we’ll have to try tomorrow when they’ve healed a bit more. I’ll probably sense it when it does, so don’t try to mask it, understand?”

“Yessir.”

Kylo took a deep breath, centering himself. He assessed her and noted her drawn posture, his eyes narrowing in critique. 

“Alright. First things first: straighten your back. Your shoulders should be back as well, but relaxed. Chin up. A bit more. That’s it, like that. Your hands should be either palms up, like this on your lap, or palms down like this on your knees. Since you’ve got wounds just place them on your lap.” 

Kylo eyed her form, then moved to stand. Girl flinched again, arms tucked against her chest, brows lined with worry.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“It’s fine, get back into position. I need to check.”

She lowered her arms and sat up, face forward and nervously concentrated. Kylo walked around, voicing minor adjustments—“Shoulders relaxed. Angled back a bit more,” “ Your left hand should be cradling your right,” “Chin up.”

He stood back, and, satisfied with her posture, he nodded, “Very good.” Then he resumed his seated position across from her, mirroring her. 

She looked less than relaxed, but eventually with enough practice she would fall into correct posture without having to strain her muscles so much. 

Although there might not be much practice for her in the future once she’d been cut off from the Force. 

_Not a thing to worry about now_ , he thought. _Focus._

“Try to remember this posture, try to keep it like this,” he told her. “You’ll likely fall out of it because your body isn’t used to it, but try. If you slouch it could affect your breathing, and breathing is paramount to focus.”

She gave a sober nod. “Yessir.”

“Now, close your eyes.”

She did, her brow creasing, a spark of anxiety fizzling beneath the surface of her mind.

“Focus on your breathing,” Kylo reiterated. “Inhale for four seconds, hold for three, and let it out for five. Just like last time.”

Kylo watched as Girl began to control her breaths, counting in his head to make sure she was doing it in the correct time. He could tell that she was relaxing more now, the white noise dying down somewhat. But the line between her brow only deepened, and he could sense that she was becoming frustrated. 

A few minutes later there was a flash of agitation, and her face twisted morosely, her torso slumping, head shaking. 

“Don’t stop,” Kylo told her firmly. “Keep going.”

“I’m trying, Sir, but…” she opened her eyes, blinking and glancing up at him, then back down. 

“You need to focus on your breathing,” he said with a scowl. “You’re not focusing enough.” Perhaps she wasn’t ready after all.

“That’s not—“ she pressed her mouth closed, the air rushing through her nose. 

Kylo frowned. 

“It’s not what?”

* * *

~~~~O*O~~~~

* * *

Rey squeezed her hands, feeling a sweat begin to break out as her face heated. 

She knew what would make focusing easier, what had helped last time, but asking for it now felt like an overstep. She should be able to focus on her breathing the way her master was telling her to. It was probably not normal, what had happened last time. 

But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to focus now without it. And she was desperate to build the walls, to prove herself. 

“Girl, it’s not what?” Lord Ren repeated, impatient. 

Rey looked up again, but couldn’t hold the gaze for long. Her heart thudded in her chest. 

“Last time,” she started, then stopped to clear her throat, swallowed thickly, and tried to continue.

“Last time I couldn’t focus so well on my breathing either,” she admitted. 

Lord Ren’s head tilted in thought. 

“But you managed to lapse into a meditative state, remember? You formed the dune, you began to build a wall.”

“Yessir, but,” she gripped her hands tighter, forcing out the words, “last time, you, you h-held my wrists. And it was easier to focus on that.”

Her face was aflame, embarrassment and shame swirling within her, her gaze resolutely downturned, body stiff, waiting for his ridicule, waiting for him to tell her she was being stupid, that she should just listen to him and focus on her breathing, that she was—

“You’re going to have to move closer then.”

Rey looked up, eyes wide, and Lord Ren slowly extended his arms to rest his hands palms up on his knees. He made a gesture with his fingers, urging her to move forward, towards him. 

Relief bloomed in Rey’s chest, mixed with another wave of embarrassment and nerves. She was so stupid for this, but she was thankful her master was accommodating her. She didn’t deserve it. 

Slowly she scooted forward until her knees were almost touching his. Then, after looking up at him for permission—given with a small nod and further opening of his hands—Rey placed her wrists in the valleys of his palms, which were big enough to almost take up half her forearm even after his fingers closed like a vice around them.  
  
“This is not the way things will be done in the future,” he told her, “But for today I will abide.” 

She gave a flushed nod of understanding. 

His thumbs pressed lightly into her pulse points.  
  
“Is this too tight?”

Rey shook her head. “No, Sir, it’s actually…” she gave a small tug to show it was actually too loose, and he seemed to understand without her having to humiliate herself further with speaking it out loud.

The pressure increased until she could feel the pulse in her fingertips, and then it loosened slightly, Lord Ren having noticed the lack of circulation by the purpling of her fingers. Still, even with the loosened grip, Rey knew she would not be able to break his hold now. 

“Better?” He asked.

Rey nodded, slightly breathless from her nerves and from the sudden strange calm that washed over her. With his gloves and her sleeves providing a barrier, it wasn’t quite like the blanket of peace from when they had touched bare hands. But a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t realized had been there loosened, and Rey took in a deep breath to further break up the strain.

“I’ll try again now,” she told him quietly. 

“Fix your posture first,” he murmured back.

There was some extra adjusting to do because of how her arms were laid now, but she took small pride in Lord Ren’s praise when she managed to get it right without as much correction this time. 

“Good. Very good,” he rumbled. “Now, breathe. And _focus.”_

Rey did as told, closing her eyes, counting her breaths and focusing her mind on the pressure around her wrists. There was a safety from it, a feeling of being anchored when it felt like she was going to float away. Lord Ren could probably crush her bones with his hands, but for now they were benign. For now they grounded her.

The cold room melted away as Rey’s mind settled, the counting forgotten as her breathing became rote. The only things remaining were her breaths, the weight around her wrists, and the aware-unawareness of the electric energy pulsing and slowly undulating all around her. 

Lord Ren’s voice emerged from the gloom, low and entrancing. 

“You’re doing very well now… It’s time to imagine the open plane again, spread out in all directions. …Can you see it?”

The shifting darkness bled out, and Rey found herself standing in the white desert again, the ground cracked and chalky beneath her feet, the mountains as distant as ever but the brooding storm closer this time. 

“Yessir,” she murmured. 

“Good. Your thoughts and emotions are there as well. Gather them up.”

Rey turned and saw what used to be the great red dune, but now it was windblown and scattered; not nearly as tall and imposing as before. The circle of thin stones was still there as well, but it was broken and lopsided. It was all a mess.

But not willing to let it dismay her, she imagined the flecks of thought and feeling moving back, a slow-motion reverse cascade of red that swept back up into the mound. The wind blew, whipping the tendrils of her hair, tugging her hair buns, throwing a cloud of red from the crest of the now-tall-again dune into the air. 

“The wind,” she murmured with a frown of consternation. “It’s still blowing the dune away.”

“You have to block it,” Lord Ren echoed back, the sound weaving around her like a tangible current. 

“It’s time to build a wall.”

* * *

Rey wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually the dune was surrounded by a slightly sturdier circle of thin stones that were stacked on top of each other semi-precariously. It was only about waist-high, which seemed useless and a waste of so much time and energy because of how the wind kept blowing at the top of the dune. 

“It’s impossible”, she whispered morosely at one point. “I’ll never get it blocked.”

“You will,” came her master’s voice, enunciated with a squeeze of his hands. “I can sense a difference even now.”

His words helped soothe some of her hopelessness, helped motivate her to keep going. It was harder than it seemed, and several times she found her world beginning to shimmer and swirl like a mirage as she lost focus and became more aware of the floor beneath her, the belt digging into her diaphragm, the slight ache of her wounds. 

But somehow Lord Ren could sense it, and without a word his fingers tightened around her wrists, reminding her he was there, reminding her of what to focus on. She was unbelievably grateful for his patience and silent guidance, because a part of her felt guilty for taking up so much of his time. He could be doing work for his mission, he could be doing things to help look for the map, but he was here, sitting on the hard floor and holding her wrists for Maker-knew-how-long. 

It was almost enough to throw her concentration again, but she did not want to waste the time he’d already spent on her. She did not want it to be all for nothing. 

She was starting on another thin layer of stones when she felt something off. Rey turned, looking at the distant storm, but while it was slightly closer, it wasn’t the source of the strange feeling. 

Not seeing anything, she was about to turn back to her work when something caught her eye. Far off to the side, in the stretch of white ground going on forever, there was a smudge. Rey blinked, squinting, trying to make out what it was, but then it just as suddenly drifted away, like smoke.

Confused, she turned back to the dune, writing off the smoky smudge as just a warped part of her broken mind. But as she continued to lay the brittle stones, she felt a chill that brought a shiver down her spine and gooseflesh to her skin. 

She turned to look around, and froze.

There was a creature, something dark and cold, something that billowed like black clouds, and it was only a few speeder lengths away. 

Rey’s heart beat was a wild drum in her chest, her whole body filled with dread and unease and fear. 

Lord Ren’s voice cut through the vision, although the thing did not disappear. It just stood, and even though she could not see eyes, she knew it was staring at her. 

“What’s wrong?” Her master asked.

Rey didn’t blink, afraid to look away, but it didn’t matter because suddenly it was _lunging_ for her, and she screamed, jerking back, the dream desert and the dune disappearing as she was mentally dropped back into her seated position on the cold, hard floor, her arms still in her master’s hands, the sudden backwards motion nearly wrenching her arms from their sockets.

“Girl—!”

Rey trembled, looking around, trying to tug her arms back.

“Th-there’s something here! Someone—someone is _here—“_

“Hey, _hey,”_ he tightened his grip. “It’s just us. There’s no one else here. Girl, look at me, it’s just you and me here now.”

She shook her head, her skin crawling. 

“No, I felt something, someone, I, I don’t know.”

“You probably just sensed Cseenan and Tomaxx. Their rooms are nearby.”

Again she shook her head, pleading, needing to be believed, needing him to believe her, because she could still feel it, she could still sense something cold and _very bad_. 

“No, Sir, they’re different, this was different.”

“I would have sensed it if it was anything else. You need to _calm down._ ” 

But there was no getting calm, there was something bad, something evil, something that wanted to hurt her, and it was there with them and she couldn’t see what it was anymore. How could Lord Ren not sense it? It was _oppressive._

And before she knew it, the Force was bubbling up inside her, shivering and popping beneath her skin, making her heart seize in her chest, her whole body prickling and trembling, her breath wheezing through her constricted throat, her eyes looking around her desperately, trying to find it, trying to locate the bad dark evil thing, and Lord Ren was saying something but she couldn’t hear him, and then she felt something _not_ Lord Ren _touch_ _her shoulders,_ a sick feeling rushing through her and turning her stomach and she _shrieked,_ the Force bursting out of her and throwing her and her master apart. 

Rey slid to a stop right before the couch, wheezing from having the breath knocked out of her. She could feel a tingling on her chest and scrambled upright with a horrified gasp, looking to see Lord Ren near the wall now, hunched over on his knees with a hand over his heart, pain in every line of his body. 

“Master!” Rey rasped, nearly falling over herself to get to his side, reaching for him with a harried apology. 

“I’m so sorry—!“

He shrugged off her hand with a sharp, _“Don’t.”_

She immediately flinched back with another whimpered, “’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his hand fisting the front of his robes, the air bursting with cold. 

“Just….just give me a minute,” he growled, his vocomodulator crackling, chest heaving as he seemingly tried to breathe through the pain. 

_“Imagine yourself as a cloth, absorbing the pain away, imagine a desert,”_ he’d said to her, and Rey realized he was trying to do the same, and so she kept quiet, waiting, sensing the tingling on her chest die out over the span of a minute.  
  
Finally he sat up, leaning back against the wall with a heavy exhale.

“I think it might be best if we stop here for now.”

Rey’s heart fell. 

“No! Sir, please, I’m sorry, I can keep going, I, I don’t know what came over me.”

He shook his head. 

“Your fear is clouding your mind, making it more difficult for you to concentrate. It’s dangerous. We’re stopping here.”

“Sir—“

“Girl,” he snapped. “It’s dangerous. Not only for you, but also for me. I can’t afford to reopen wounds the night before a mission as important as this one. This will have to be enough for now; you will have to try to continue while I’m away. Understand?”

“Yessir,” she replied despondently, head bowing. 

Lord Ren sagged against the wall again, one leg bent up, his hand resting on his knee as he continued to take deep breaths in, and the two of them lapsed into another silence. 

Now that she had a minute to actually think and feel anything besides panic, Rey felt a soreness in her legs and back, and tried to inconspicuously rub at the sore joints and muscles with the thought that she deserved much worse than this. She deserved to press on her wounds again and force pain upon herself, but she knew that Lord Ren would get mad at her for it. 

He broke the silence. 

“You felt something dark.”

Rey nodded, embarrassment heating her face, shame weighing down her shoulders.

“I think it was just in my head, Sir,” she mumbled. 

He thought quietly for a moment.

“Sometimes when you reach a deep enough meditative state, you can trigger memories,” he mused. “Perhaps that’s what you felt: A bad memory.”

“You’re probably right, Sir,” she agreed with a small voice, and cursed her mind for being filled with such bad things, for making her think she wasn’t safe even with her master so close. 

“Next time it happens, try to remember that,” he told her. “It’s just a memory; it can’t do anything to you.”

“Yessir.”

Lord Ren gave a long sigh, then moved stiffly to his feet. He looked down and slowly extended his hand. 

“Come on, up.”

Grateful, Rey accepted the proffered help and found herself on her feet almost a bit _too_ quickly, her head filled with air as the blood rushed down, an exhaustion descending upon her in the same moment until her knees nearly buckled.

Lord Ren grabbed for her other arm, steadying her with a low, “Easy.”

Rey blinked and breathed the black spots away, holding the ribbed sleeves of Lord Ren’s stone-like arms until she knew she probably wasn’t going to faint. 

“You’re most likely going to be very tired after such mental work for so long,” he said as she tentatively pulled her arms from his grip and stepped away. “It's a bit early, but go ready for bed before you end up on the floor.”

“Yessir,” she said, the idea of her bed a very welcome one. She’s never felt so drained before in her entire life, and it was no wonder—according to the chrono, they had been sitting for a little over an hour. 

Her head began to pound somewhat as she gathered her things and headed to the ‘fresher, Lord Ren sitting heavily in his seat as she passed him, his sigh cut off by the door closing between them. She frowned as she undressed, thinking of how tired he seemed all of a sudden. He had seemed tired earlier as well. 

Sometimes her master seemed so powerful, so terrifying. But through the dark veneer Rey was beginning to see a world-weary leader, terribly flawed but doing what he thought was best. And even though he whipped her emotions around by promising good things, then threatening bad, telling her she was special, then making her feel like the garbage she knew she was,

She still found herself feeling sorry for him. It seemed like there was so much on his shoulders, so many things he had to bear alone as one of the last Force Masters in the galaxy. What a burden that must be, to have to take on a nearly died-out form of magic-wielding and keep it alive, even while others were trying so hard to destroy them. 

He was cruel and volatile, but he seemed to truly take his duty seriously, seemed to care about his Knights in his own way. Even her.

_“Anger and hate come easily to me,”_ he had said. _“My temper has been ruling me when I should be showing more control.”_  
  
And Rey was easily frightened, dangerously so apparently. She hadn’t been this timid and jumpy since the beginnings of her time with Nybian. Troog had certainly brought it out of her at times, but Rey found herself constantly on edge on this ship. Constantly scared and trying to find ways to douse flames that seemed out of control and forever burning. 

It didn’t help that her usual way of reading masters was made almost moot by the mask and layers Lord Ren wore, although with how she has been able to sense him lately it had been getting easier. 

Still, she was scared, and exhausted from trying so hard only to constantly fail, and those things were probably not helping her health at all. 

Changed, teeth cleaned, and wounds slathered with the antibiotic salve, Rey exited the ‘fresher, greeted with her master hunched over his datapad on the table. He looked up when she walked out, leaning back in his seat. 

Rey stopped beside the table, hands gripping her clothes and things tightly to her. 

“I’m sorry again for what happened, Sir.”

“I know you’re sorry. Stop apologizing for it.”

Rey hung her head, confessing, “I don’t know what else to do about it, Sir.”

He looked at her for a moment. 

“When I get back I will help you with something that will make it not a problem anymore.”

Rey glanced up at him, another wave of gratefulness almost making her tear up.

“Thank you, Sir. I promise I’ll do my best to better about it. I’ll try to control it.”

He nodded silently, then,

“Go sleep.”

“Yessir,” Rey answered with a demure bow of her head, moving to obey, and the door hissed shut behind her.

As the lights dimmed and she settled into bed, her body sank into the mat with a bone-deep weariness, but her mind was still aching, still abuzz with thoughts.

Lord Ren confessed to be controlled too much by his anger. Well, Rey knew she was too controlled by her fear. Even her master and Lord Tomaxx had noticed, and it was becoming a _big_ problem. A _dangerous_ problem. She had once again lost control tonight, and hurt her master in the process.

She could have all the bolts in the galaxy, but how the kriff was she to build with any of them if she was too scared to try? 

Their week apart was meant for a reset. Rey knew she had her task from Lord Ren to practice meditating and building up her mental walls, but she decided she would use the time to try and bolster herself as well. 

She was a slave, a scavenger, a disgusting sand pest, but she was also a problem solver, and a builder, and a good servant when given the opportunity. 

Rey didn’t know if Lord Ren would make good on his promises to be less temperamental—she was too weary and damaged to hope too much for it, even though he had already seemed to try. But she could work on her own fear. She had slightly more control there. 

It would be stupid to let go of all her fear of course; Lord Cseenan was still trying to eat her and Lord Tomaxx cared not for her mental boundaries, but she knew they would not respect her at all if she didn’t figure out a way to be around them without cowering. 

Lord Ren especially. 

No doubt it would be like pulling a sand sled up a steep dune, especially with how oppressive the darkness of the three Lords was and how utterly terrifying each of them were.  
But she didn’t want to be a burden on her master anymore. She didn’t want to add to the things he already had weighing him down. 

Trying to overcome her fear in a place that was like a living nightmare was going to be incredibly hard, but she’d survived far worse. 

She could find a way to survive this, too.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL 👁👄👁
> 
> So, how was it?  
> 
> 
> I know I should have split it up, but there were a lot of reasons to keep it all in one piece.  
> The biggest reason is that I am actually going to be taking a break from posting for about two weeks so I can 1). micro-manage the plan I have written out so can I streamline my writing, 2). get caught up on some other things I have been neglecting, such as an art commission, 3). get some chapters written ahead so I can have a nice buffer between postings, because I only just finished this chapter yesterday and I REALLY don't like that I only had a day to edit it. I'm sure I'm gonna end up going back to reread it later and I'll find some glaring things missing or weird to me, but I feel comfortable posting what I have written now, which is why it was posted on time. Have mercy on me though, I wrote 12,300 words in a week, and even though I went on a much-needed vacation over the weekend I still carved time to write and edit as much as I could 🙃 
> 
> I don't even have the next chapter started, so I cannot give you a clickbait synopsis 😞 Bummer. But things related to Kylo leaving will be happening.  
> Next chapter will for sure be posted on **Tuesday, November 17th, at 9PM Japan time**. I prefer to post on Sundays but I want to give myself a full two weeks to get shit done. I'll nudge the schedule back to Sundays at some point, don't worry 😊
> 
> As an aside, I know Tuesday the 3rd is a huge day in America, so I want to wish all of my fellow American readers some love and support. Today and the next several weeks are going to be so stressful for all of us, and I wish I had chapters to post to help take the edge off. But if anyone wants to chat, I'm always on [Tumblr](http://veggieheist.tumblr.com) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/veggieheist_art/). I'll likely be posting updates on Tumblr about my progress with things, and posting art to Instagram, so feel free to reach out. I also have my email, veggieheist.art@gmail.com if you're not on either of those apps. 
> 
> No matter what happens, we will find a way through it. 
> 
> As another aside, I drew a picture inspired by a particular scene in this chapter, and while it is not an exact depiction (for obvious reasons) I just couldn't get the image out of my head, so I drew it.  
> Anyways,  
> Here ya go,  
> I call it "Guided Meditation" 😁😏
> 
> I'll post it on Tumblr and Instagram later this week once I know people probably won't be spoiled by it/get the wrong idea 🤪
> 
> OKAY, well, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter 😉. I shall see you all on the 17th for chapter 63!


	63. The Nightmare, and the Mated Pair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY FRIENDS NICE TO BE BACK HERE YA GO ENJOY 😁✨❤️ 
> 
> ✨✋✨

* * *

The sandy ground beneath Rey’s feet made a hissing sound as it shifted from her harried steps, the loose grains making her legs unsteady. More than once she almost fell, and every time she did the desperation clawing in her chest only grew. 

She needed to run, she needed to make it. 

There was something on the other side of the dunes and she needed to get to it, or it would be gone, forever. 

The sun was a vibrating slow-motion explosion in the sky above her, the heat beating down on her, the undulation of the atmosphere almost mesmerizing if not for the horrible foreboding it cast. Eventually the explosion was going to speed up, and when that happened it was going to wipe out the entire planet.

Rey wheezed, the air like burning needles down her parched throat, her hair stuck to her face and neck from sweat. She was almost at the crest of a dune when she tripped and fell, her hands sinking into the scorching sand, up to her elbows, burning her skin, and then she could feel something wrapping around them, something heavy, and when she managed to pull herself back up and get to her feet, she was dismayed to find a heavy stone cast around her hands and forearms. 

It weighed her down so much that her feet began to sink, prompting her to make a raspy cry and begin to climb again, working twice as hard to keep her balance and ascend now. 

Almost there _…almost..._

…Made it.

At the crest of the dune the wind was so strong it whipped a cloud of dust and sand up, blinding her temporarily, making her cough painfully, blinking tears from her eyes. But when they cleared she could see it—the water harvester ship some speederlengths from the bottom of the dune. 

Her relief was momentary as she saw the engines begin to fire up, billows of compressed air and hot sand making great puffs around it. 

“No,” Rey gasped, and then cried out, “Wait! _Please_ wait!”

There were shadows going up the lowered ramp, their darkness so stark against the bright sand and the sky blue paint of the hull. They disappeared into the belly of the ship, and then the ramp began to lift. Rey let out a raspy sob.

“Wait!”

She began to run down the face of the dune, sinking into the sand, tripping, falling, rolling, the weight of her arms wrenching her shoulder sockets, but it didn’t matter because she needed to get back on her feet, she needed to run. 

The ship was lifting, and she was still too far away, the engines were drowning out her cries, her screams,

“WAIT! Please, _please_ don’t leave! _PLEASE,_ wait for me!” 

Above her the sky was rumbling, crackling, waves of noxious clouds spreading out from the sun explosion, picking up speed as time began to resume to normal, the air reaching critical heat, and the ship was in the air, and Rey was still too far away because the weight on her arms was slowing her, and the sand was so sticky and gelatinous, holding her back, and her screams were lost in the—

_“GIRL.”_

Rey jolted violently awake with a gasp, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, her body flooded with adrenaline, barely noticing her master crouched by her bed in the dark, her mind only on one thing: _get to the ship_. 

She threw off his hand from her shoulder and scrambled from the bed, tripping over the blanket tangled in her legs, falling with a jarring smack to the cold floor, but she couldn’t let that stop her, she needed to get up, she needed to _run._

“Girl, what—“

Rey got back to her feet, ignoring the pain, almost falling again down the stair, gasping, wheezing, pleading,

“We, we have to go, the sun is, it’s not safe we—“ 

She fell against the door, found her way to the control panel but none of the buttons worked, and now she was turning, eyes wide, hurrying to where her master stood on the stairs, tugging his arm,

“Master we have to _go,_ we have to get to the ship, it’s going to _leave,_ we can’t,” she swallowed a gasping sob, “we can’t let it leave, Sir, please, open the door—“

Lord Ren was stepping down the stair slowly, head shaking, pulling his arm from her.  
  
“Girl, there’s nothing wrong. You had a nightmare.”

Rey shook her head, desperation clawing, _“No,_ you’re not _listening,_ we have to GO,” she turned and ran back to the door, began pounding on the metal, then hitting the control panel, because they needed to _get out of there before the ship left—_

There was a pulse in the air a second before her whole body froze against her will, every muscle taught, her arm lowering in a jerking sort of way that felt so much like the weight of the rock that her panic increased tenfold, because that must have been _real,_ because it was happening _now,_ and that meant the sun was exploding and they were all going to die if they didn’t _leave immediately—_

“Girl,” came her master’s sharp voice closer behind her. “Calm down, _right now._ ”

Oh, Maker, he couldn’t sense it, he couldn’t sense the _doom,_ the _death coming for them._

Rey fought against the invisible hold with all her might, whining and gritting her teeth, and felt some small hope as her arm budged forward. She did not get far though, because Lord Ren’s hand appeared, wrapping around her forearm in a firm grip.

_“Stop,”_ he commanded, a biting word, a cold threat accented with a hard squeeze.

Rey’s heart was a painful, frantic staccato in her chest, black spots dancing in her vision, feeling so stuck, so held down, so _trapped,_ and there wasn’t any air, and they were going to _die._

Everything went black for a moment, and it was a curious feeling, fainting while frozen upright. Her master must have sensed she was out because when she came-to she was no longer frozen, and she was being awkwardly held up by a stony arm around her middle, her head lolling back against his chest, her legs barely taking her weight beneath her.

She felt him sigh, his voice a grumble, “You ridiculous thing.” The words took a second to process, but once they did she felt shame filling her vision with more tears.  
  
“‘m sorry,” she mumbled, voice thick. She felt him sigh again, his grip shifting as he lowered them to the ground. Once on her knees Rey pulled away, curling up against the door, her master’s crouched form looming in the murky darkness of the room. The only light spilled from his bedroom, but even that was low.

“Breathe, or you’ll pass out again,” he droned.

Rey was too woozy for words, but tried to do as he said. She counted in her head, although it felt like it was going to make her faint even faster at times. Soon enough the dizziness had mostly abated, her breaths more stable, and Lord Ren’s voice rumbled in the dark as he rose to his feet.

“Very good. Can you stand?”

Her legs felt like jelly but she managed to take a couple more breaths and tense them enough beneath her, using the wall to stand straight, leaning away from it slowly to test them. They seemed to hold, so she nodded, although she wobbled uncertainly. Lord Ren’s hand found her forearm again, steadying her.

“Go drink some water,” he told her.

“Yessir,” she rasped, tottering for a moment before finding some surety in her feet and moving more stably out of his grasp. 

Almost immediately she felt a constriction in her chest, a small bloom of panic, but she pushed it down, pushed down the dread and the fear, accepting they were probably going to die but at least she wasn’t alone.

She wiped at the tears on her face, sniffling, and once in the ‘fresher she splashed her hot cheeks with water, holding her hands against them and pressing the tips of her fingers into her closed eyes. 

And slowly, as she stood and the ache in her fist and knee became evident, and her heartbeat slowed, and reality drifted back to her frazzled brain, she began to realize that there was no exploding sun, there was no immediate danger of dying. She’d had a nightmare, just as Lord Ren had told her. It was one of the bad ones—one of the ones that followed her into waking, warping her perceptions and making monsters out of shadows and enemies out of friends.

Oh, _Maker,_ she had made an absolute _fool_ of herself in front of Lord Ren. 

Again. 

First the smoky figure during meditation, and now this. It was the exact opposite direction she wanted to go in terms of overcoming her fear. It was almost like her mind was doing this just to spite her, to prove to her it was impossible.   
  
She was so unhinged. So destructive. She should not have access to powers; what if she had hurt him again? What if she had caused him to postpone his mission?

She was such an idiot. Such a ridiculous thing.

Rey took in a shuddering breath, pressing harder until stars appeared beneath her lids. Upon hearing her master’s chair move she dropped her hands and turned the water back on. She drank several handfuls, then turned the tap off as she wiped the drops from her chin with her sleeve.

She wished there was a mirror so she could see just how much of a wreck she was. She didn’t know why; she just needed the validation— _I am unwell and awful and ugly_.  
  
Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t know.

Her hair felt loose from her thrashing and was probably halfway coming out of the buns, so many strands and flyaways making her face and neck feel like her skin was crawling with insects. She resisted the urge to pull them out, and instead smoothed the strands back behind her ears as best she could with trembling fingers. Then she moved to stand by her chair, face downturned.

“I’m—“ _sorry,_ she wanted to say. But she apologized too much, and it would just make him angry, but how could she convey how wretched she felt? How sorry?

She could kneel, lower herself, show with actions rather than words how beneath everything she was and how she knew it. It had certainly helped make her feel a bit better last night, after Lord Ren had gone to the corridor to take his rage out on the wall.

But her legs were still healing. She didn’t want to open the wounds, although maybe she deserved to be scarred for the rest of her life.

Lord Ren looked up from the datapad on the table, indicated with his head towards the other chair. 

“Sit down.”

With slight hesitance she did, her stomach in knots, unease burrowing beneath. 

He slid his datapad aside, looking at her directly. 

“What did you dream?”

She looked askance, head ducking further.

“Just something stupid, Sir,” she mumbled. 

“You almost broke my door,” he droned. “And you fainted. I don’t find that stupid at all. What did you dream?”

She flattened her hands against the tabletop, the cold seeping in and chilling her slightly feverish body. Lord Ren wanted to know, he was commanding her to tell him, she could not disobey no matter how embarrassing it was.

“I was back on Jakku,” she began quietly, miserably. “And the sun was exploding. Like a hydron bomb in the sky, but slow.”

“We’re not on Jakku,” he told her matter-of-factly, as if she didn’t know it now, “and the nearest sun is three sectors away. You’re safe here.”

Rey nodded, her chest tight. 

She almost kept quiet, but the words ached to come out, to be heard:

“And there was a ship,” she said, so quiet it was almost a whisper, embarrassed because it conveyed more than she wanted to admit. “It was leaving.”

“I know,” Lord Ren replied. “You were crying out for it in your sleep.” 

Rey glanced up, then back down to the table, her eyes squeezed shut, mortified. 

“I hope I didn’t wake you, Sir,” she mumbled sorrowfully.

“You didn’t. I’ve been awake doing last minute preparations.” He waited a moment, then, “You should go try to sleep again.”

Rey wanted to ask if she could sit here for a bit, just to be near someone, just to have company and not be sucked back into that nightmarish place again, but she was determined to be more obedient, especially since lately she kept proving how awful she was instead. So, she nodded with a quiet, “Yessir,” and stood shakily to do so. 

The adjacent room was dark still as she trudged back to her bed, the space illuminated only by the low light coming from Lord Ren’s room. She expected the door to close behind her, but it stayed open, and she was grateful for it because if she’d been closed off in the darkness again she may have spiraled back into that crazed mental place of explosions and nightmarish heat and doom. 

She was so grateful, too, that her master had not beaten her for her stupid meltdown. Troog had taken to slapping her face to bring her out of her nightmare episodes, and although having her body frozen by the Force had not really helped, that Lord Ren at least tried to calm her down showed more patience than she knew she deserved. 

But she wasn’t a child anymore; she should have this under control by now. She didn’t have Nybian there to hum or sing her back to sleep. She needed to stop being such a nuisance. 

Rey lay in her bed in the hazy gloom, tossing and turning, her mind a nest of buzzing thoughts and her body tense with unease and lingering dread. Eventually she slipped into an anxious doze, and when she opened her eyes next, the room was dark again, the door shut. Lord Ren was sleeping now. 

The darkness made her heart jump, but she tried to keep herself calm, because she didn’t want her anxious thoughts to wake him or somehow infiltrate his own dreams. She wasn’t sure that was even possible, but she didn’t want to risk it. 

She slipped in and out of a light, nervous sleep as the hours wore on, until finally the lights in the room glowed to brightness again. She could sense activity in the next room, and gave a weary sigh.

The shame and embarrassment of having had _two_ meltdowns within the span of mere hours was enough to make her want to hide herself beneath the bed and never come out, but the door beeping and letting a kitchen droid in reminded her that she had duties, and she was going to have to face her master at some point. 

He’d probably drag her out from under the bed, anyways. 

Groggy was an understatement for how Rey felt as she clambered out of bed and went to greet the droid. Her eyes felt puffy and her head was full of bantha wool, a beating ache somewhere muffled beneath it. It felt very early, and when she asked the droid what time it was she was surprised to find that it was _much_ earlier than their usual waking time. Lord Ren must want to get last-minute things prepped, must want to get going. 

The thought made Rey feel dread again, a curling discomfort twisting her insides. She swallowed against the growing lump in her throat, willing herself to hold in the tears she felt brewing. 

_Stop. You’ve known about this. There’s no stopping it. Lord Ren and the Knights are going away on an important mission, and you are remaining here. He’ll come back. He came back last time._

But last time he came back practically in pieces. What if something similar happens to him this time too? What if it’s even worse? He was going to be gone for _five_ days. So much could happen. So much could go wrong. 

Plus she kept messing up, she kept proving how much of a burden she was. What if he didn’t come back because he didn’t want to deal with her anymore?

Rey was beginning to feel panic rising again as she stood stiffly, holding the tray of breakfast, the droid having gone several minutes before. 

_Calm down, it’ll be fine. He’s a warrior—a master warrior. He’ll come back. He said he’d help you with the Force when he got back, he’s made plans to come back._

The door to the bedroom opened, making her flinch, her grip tightening to prevent the tray from flying. She looked away quickly, blinking the tears away, swallowing again and trying to grapple up some resemblance of control and poise. 

“Here’s your breakfast, Sir,” she rasped, and then tried to clear her throat without drawing too much attention. 

She doubted he was fooled, but she could at least try to muster up some sliver of dignity, for both their sakes. 

He stood in the doorway looking at her, and then moved to gesture her in. There was a tense anticipation about him, and she noticed that his cowl was hanging haphazardly on the back of his chair, and a dark satchel on the end of his bed. There was also various datapads and holochrons littering his side of table, so she had to put the tray down closer to the center to avoid disturbing them.

He had more important things to deal with than care about her and her problems. 

At that thought Rey felt a small surge of determination to be as helpful as she could—by not being any more of a nuisance. She’d wash up and change in fifteen minutes, diligently and silently consume her supplement, then wish her master well on his mission with seriousness and stoicism. No tears, no freaking out, no begging him to stay or take her with them. 

No emotion. 

She retrieved her clothes and things and quietly made her way to the ‘fresher, the air and walls still warm and muggy from Lord Ren’s shower. As she stood beneath the hot spray, her hair a curtain of water around her face, she tried to go into herself, to cut off her emotions like she used to. 

_I feel nothing. I am nothing._   
  
She felt relatively successful, a numb sort of calm descending upon her as she scrubbed. It helped that she was so bone-weary and exhausted.

The cuts on her legs stung slightly beneath the water, but they were already a lot more healed than she thought they would be. There was some slight redness around the scabs, so she took care to use the salve Lord Tomaxx had given her—although now she didn’t want anything to do with the jar, an uneasy feeling squirming inside her just from holding it—and dutifully applied the clean bacta patches Lord Ren had laid out for her.

She was dried, patched up, dressed, with hair back into neat buns by around seventeen minutes. She’d lost track of time for a bit, but Lord Ren probably wouldn’t care. She pushed the control to open the door and

it opened an inch and then promptly shut again. Rey stood, slightly dumbfounded and confused, and then the split-second image from the crack of space she’d seen finally finished processing in her brain and she realized she’d seen the edge of her master’s helmet.

_On the table._

The implications of the realization sent a small shockwave through her. She had almost seen her master without his mask. Whatever progress she’d made in the shower to dampen her emotions was promptly lost as her heart beat picked up, her face reddening. 

She decided to wait for a bit and let her master sort himself, not wanting to accidentally open the door on him _…bare._ As curious as she was about what he looked like beneath his mask, a part of her was also fine not knowing. Whatever was under that black and silver— _a face with pale skin, maybe, like his hands_ —was apparently worth keeping hidden, and she was slightly worried about what that could mean. What if he was hideous, and his real face started to show up in her nightmares? She would be _mortified._

The wait was not long for the door to open on its own again, her master sitting stiffly, fully masked now, but she found herself keeping her eyes respectfully downcast anyways. 

She silently discarded her towel before bracing herself and moving to sit in her seat. Lord Ren’s tray was only half eaten, and Rey had the thought that evidently she was not the only one who lost track of time this morning. She still felt like she should apologize, though, for almost intruding on something he obviously wanted to keep private.

But saying something felt like it would bring attention to the fact that he cared so much about wearing his mask in the first place, and maybe he might take it as a jab somehow. 

_Better just ignore it, then_ , Rey decided. 

“I can go in the other room, Sir,” she offered, “so you can finish your food.”

He didn’t look up from his reading as he replied, “It’s fine.”

He said nothing else, so intent on his datapad, so Rey decided to drop it. There was no cup waiting for her though, and she figured that it was too early for FX-8 to come with it. She decided she might as well busy herself in the meantime, so she made herself as inconspicuous as possible, standing on quiet feet to take her toiletries back to her box and retrieve her datapad. 

Lord Ren was stiff again when she returned, but relaxed somewhat when she sat back down and turned the screen on. Together they sat in quietude, Rey working on another mind puzzle and her master comparing things on two datapads, switching between them at interval. 

Eventually he sat upright, cracking his neck and straightening his spine with a flex of muscles and a sigh. 

He looked over at her, placing the datapads down. 

“FX-8 will come with your food later; I didn’t inform the medbay of our earlier-than-normal rise.”

It was not quite an apology, warped through the vocomodulator as it was, but Rey was quick to shake her head. 

“I understand, Sir. It’s fine.”

His head tilted, his invisible gaze probing even through the dark visor.

“You didn’t sleep much last night, did you.”

It was probably not a question meant to be answered, but Rey gave a small shake of her head anyways, quietly admitting,

“Not much, Sir, no.”  
  
“Hm.” He looked at the things on the table, his gaze pointed at the box by his elbow—the box received yesterday. 

Rey looked at it too, but didn’t want to seem overly curious so she redirected her attention back to her hands folded over her datapad. 

“Hopefully you are able to sleep better while we are gone,” he rumbled, then faced her again. “It would be a shame to come back and not be able to get into my rooms because you’ve dented the door with all your pounding.”

Rey ducked her head. 

He continued, droning,

“Perhaps I should have covered everything in foam mats, after all.”

Would her humiliation never cease? At this rate she was going to beg him to just put her in the medbay anyways, even though she wasn’t sick. The horrible five days under Captain Greev would surely teach her not to let herself have such a meltdown again, especially if Lord Ren was going to remind her of her stupidity often.

Rey stayed quiet, too ashamed to come up with anything to say, her throat tight and her eyes burning from her attempt to keep her emotions at bay.  
  
“Probably,” she whispered miserably.   
  
Desperate for a distraction, she returned to the puzzle on her datapad, reading and rereading and re-rereading the same words, trying to make them stick, trying to force her brain to focus on the meaning, to take her out of this feeling.

It wasn’t really working. The emotions were too close to the surface, she was too tired—the exhaustion a hinderance this time—and her brain was not cooperating at all. She had hoped Lord Ren would be back to his work, hoped he would ignore her and let her suffer in silence, but when she glanced up he was staring directly at her. She knew then that there was no hiding from him, especially not when she was still so mentally loud.

“You really don’t want me to go, do you,” he murmured. 

Rey clenched her teeth, breathing in deeply, trying to break up the tenseness in her chest, and shook her head, her throat stuck. She knew she should verbally reply like Lord Tomaxx told her. It was more respectful. But if she made a sound she was going to break. 

“Are you afraid something might happen here while I’m gone?” Lord Ren asked.

Truthfully she hadn’t thought of anything like that at all, so she shook her head again.

“Are you afraid something might happen to _me?”_

Rey swallowed, and nodded. He had only been gone for six hours or so last time, and he’d come back so wounded and burnt that he was still recovering now, even with the fancy bacta they had here. What would happen this time?

Lord Ren was still staring, his thoughts a ponderous hum.

“You’re afraid I might not come back.”

The air escaped Rey as if she’d been punched in the gut, and she couldn’t stop the tears this time as she nodded. She tried to wipe them away quickly, embarrassed, because she was being so stupid, so ridiculous.

“Are you afraid I’ll _choose_ to not come back?”

That one was unanswerable, she couldn’t, because it meant thinking about it and she did not want to think about it, she didn’t want to think about the ones who had chosen to not come back for her in her life, and she was terrified that he would tell her it was his right, that she should just accept that her place here and his place here were his to decide, and he could decide to go away forever and leave her here and there would be nothing she could do about it.

Rey’s face twisted and she gave a small sob, her hand coming up to muffle it. _Stupid, emotional, ridiculous, child_. She shuddered through her breathing, trying to control herself, furiously wiping her face, shaking her head, hoping to shake the emotions away too. 

Lord Ren watched, not moving. 

“When I accepted your vow I bound myself to you as well,” he finally rumbled. “I’m not going to leave you behind. It would be irresponsible, and a breaking of my promise, and that is something I do not do. My word is my bond.” 

Rey nodded, a shuddering sigh blown out. His word was his bond. She should trust that.

He looked down at the box again. 

“The only things that could possibly keep us separated are related to unforeseen combat or subterfuge. Say, the _Finalizer_ is attacked and escape pods are deployed. Or, somehow there is another traitor on board set on kidnapping you again.” He looked up. 

“In either case, how would I find you? The Force might guide me, but it is helpful only when it wants to be.”

Rey thought, the scenarios making her nervous. How would he find her? The galaxy was so big, and there were so many places she could end up. If she was separated from the ship, how would she find her way back to her master? 

A jolt of thought had her looking up, brows creased, her voice hoarse.  
  
“A tracking chip?”

She had heard of slaves being chipped for easy tracking, especially ones that had slightly more freedom of movement. The chips were usually inserted near the spine to mitigate anyone from trying to dig it out—if you missed you could become paralyzed, and then you’re as good as dead at that point. 

Rey did not want to be chipped. She did not want a needle so big near her spine ever again.

Lord Ren paused, and then to her relief he shook his head. 

“That would certainly work, but no.”

Her relief was short lived, because now she had no idea, and he was looking at the box again, and she worried whatever he had inside it was somehow worse than a chip. 

“It does have to be a tracker of some sort—not removable, but not a chip.”

Rey frowned.

“Not removable?”

“By conventional means,” he added. “If I put a tracker on a bracelet someone could cut off your hand to remove it. You would still live without one hand, you’d still be a viable hostage.”

Rey blanched at the thought, her fingers gripping her wrists in her lap. 

Lord Ren continued, “Based on the idea that anyone who got ahold of you wanted to keep you alive, and based on the idea that the tracker is near indestructible, where would a tracker go that would ensure it would not be removed?”

Rey thought of each possible place, starting with her ankle—no, she’d lose a foot—upper arm—no, she’d lose an arm—waist?—maybe, but no, that’s stupid—which left only her—

She gasped, a hand flying to her neck. 

Her master nodded. 

A collar.

A kriffing _collar._

She’d rather be chipped.

All at once the air was stifling, frozen in her lungs, her stomach churning with sudden nausea, a cold sweat breaking out, her throat tightening, remembering the collar kept around her young throat, lead attached and pulled by a sentinel, tugging, jerking, pulling up sometimes, strangling her—

Lord Ren opened the box and instead of thick leather, instead of something heavy, coarse, irritating skin to blisters, instead of something with a ring to pull and yank, the box revealed two thin metal bands, one larger than the other, both nestled snuggly in a foam bed.

The immediate threat of a third meltdown was brought away from the ledge at the sight, but the terrible unease and nausea was not so easy to subdue. 

Rey had not known what to expect, but _this_ was _not it._

* * *

〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

Kylo watched Girl’s reaction and frowned at the sudden explosion of terror, her small hand still at her throat and her eyes wide in her pale face. Out of all the possible reactions he thought she might have to the binary beacons, unadulterated fear and trembling had not been at the top of the list. He had thought she might be uneasy, maybe even slightly appalled. 

This now coming from her was worse, and his tasteless idea was now even more deplorable in his mind, but he had not been able to think of any other choice. She needed to be tracked, and he was not going to chip her. It seemed far too invasive, and dangerous besides. If the chip was implanted incorrectly it could paralyze her.

When she had given him the delivery he had put it away, bent on forgetting he’d even ordered it. At the time his paranoia seemed foolish, because what were the chances the ship would come under fire out here, in the Unknown Region? They weren’t being tracked, they could not be found by anyone outside of the First Order, so why subject Girl to something just to ease his wariness?

But then she’d had her nightmare, and while at first he’d been mildly annoyed by her crazed behavior—he’d had a lot of things to get done and she seemed to have episodes like this at the most inconvenient times—upon hearing what the dream had been about he’d realized that Girl was far more anxious about his leaving than she let on. And he needed to make sure she knew that while he was leaving for a week, he was _coming back_. 

_“Han, you promised. You **promised.** You said last time was the last time.”_

_“Yeah, well, something came up and now I gotta go.”_

_“So is this you promising that **this** time is the last time? Or should you even bother? And don’t lie again about when you’re coming back, don’t give him hope like that anymore.”_

_“Leia, sweetheart—“_

_“You promised you’d be here for your son, Han. What does it teach him, that you keep making all these promises to stick around, to stop fucking around in Hutt space, to actually be here and be a father, and then you go and just, poof! Off again without a backwards glance, and never coming back when you say you are?”_

_“Hey. Don’t you be pointing those fingers at **me,** sister. Who’s the one going off to senate meetings, huh? Who’s the one supposed to be here, making sure he doesn’t blow something up? At least people expect me to run off, courtesy of being part of the male species, but what kind of mother are you—“ **SLAP.** “Ow, what the f—“_

_“Don’t you give me that sexist bullshit, Han. Don’t you fucking dare. I have an actual job that actually **benefits** this family, and that might mean I have to go away to actual meetings with **good** people who want to do **good** things for the galaxy, and sometimes those meetings go longer than expected, but that does not mean I am not a good mother, that does not excuse you constantly breaking your pr—hey, Little Star, I’m sorry, did we wake you?”_

Kylo scowled, shaking the memory away and shoving it to the dark recesses where it belonged. He was not his father. He was not running away from his duties to pursue fortune and adventure. And Kylo was absolutely _not_ breaking any promises. 

He had a mission to fulfill, which meant leaving. Girl was too weak and sick to come along. If she was healthier he would not be leaving her, especially not with everything that had happened. But he had to go, and she had to stay, and he needed to prove that he was coming back, because she was not yet trusting enough of him to take him at his word.

“First things first, this is not a collar,” he told Girl, taking the larger ring from the case. “You’re not a pet. Think of it as a necklace if you must. It’s made from alusteel, which is what some of our ships hulls are made of. It cannot be cut with anything outside of an ion welder, and at that point the heat would kill you so no one will try. Here,” he offered it to her, expecting her to take it, perhaps appreciate the idea of being allowed jewelry, but she merely stared at it like it was a landmine. 

He set it down on the table in front of her, the metal making a soft _clink_ ing sound. It was about the width of Girl’s pinky, so not too thick or bulky, but not too thin either. It was still made of near indestructible metal besides, so even if it had ended up thinner it would have been safe from being cut. The S-thread transmitter within it meant a smaller size had been sacrificed to make room for the electronics, but it was not bulky by any means. It look delicate, in fact. Engineering had done a good job.

He had guessed the size based on the two times he’d had his hand around her throat, and he hoped it was not off. He did not want to cause her any additional discomfort with it. 

Kylo next took its mate—a band the size of a bracelet—from the foam bedding. 

“This one is for me.”

At that Girl looked up, concerned confusion on her face as her eyes dipped to his throat, before Kylo added dryly, “For my wrist, not my neck.”

She hunched in her seat, cheeks red, more embarrassment flooding the air around her. 

“Both of these contain an S-wave transmitter,” he explained. “As a pair they have a coded beacon that is unique only to them. It cannot be detected by any other transmitter or scanner. If you end up separated from the ship, I _will_ be able to find you.”

She eyed the two rings, her mouth a tense line, and then her gaze searched his mask, a terrible, pained emotion glimmering within her expression. 

“How—“ she cleared her throat, “how does it open?”

“That’s the other important thing,” Kylo said, picking up the necklace in his other hand. Each of the bands had a conservative design around a small light embedded in the metal, which was connected to the transmitter electronics. It was already glowing a dull red, indicating that it was on and transmitting. Kylo showed her the two spots.

“You see here?” He then connected them, and after a beat there was a small tinny beep and both rings clicked open, the hinges hidden before.

Girl jumped slightly, but then leaned forward, slightly less horrified and slightly more curious. 

“They _have_ to be like this in order to open," he attested. "Which means if I want to remove mine, I will have to come back. If I get lost or stranded somewhere you’ll be able to find me, too. Understand?”

She looked at him again, and he could tell she was desperate to believe it. 

He offered the opened bracelet to her. 

“Hold this.”

She did this time, holding it as if it might break in her grasp, looking at it in consternation for a moment, although as soon as Kylo (took a breath and) pulled back his left sleeve to expose the bony knots of his wrist, her eyes snapped to the action, then flittered away.

He held out the limb. 

“Put it on, right here.”

Kylo knew he could very well put the damn bracelet on himself, but he needed her to trust him. He needed her to feel like this was something she was choosing to participate in. 

She hesitated, once again unsure, looking down at the exposed band of wrist between his folded sleeve and glove, his veins very blue beneath his pale skin. He was going to take the bracelet and do it for her soon, idea be damned, because somehow this felt even worse than taking off his gloves had felt, but then she moved forward, standing slightly, her hands shaking, placing the band around, giving one last look up at him—to which he gave a small encouraging nod—before she closed the band, taking extreme care it seemed to avoid touching his skin, and the metal clicked, locking tight. 

Kylo pulled on it to show her how it could not move up around his wrist. There would be no trying to take it off. It was actually almost too small—it was going to chafe. But it was no matter.

“It’s there until the other one unlocks it,” he said.

“What if someone cuts off your hand?” She asked as she sat back down.

Kylo felt himself deadpan,

“No one is going to cut off my hand.”

Her face contorted with worry. “How can you be certain?”

“Cseenan has been trained for years and tried to cut me in half yesterday,” he reminded her. “And I stopped him. Do you really think I’d let some nobody get even close to cutting me?”

She shook her head, and he settled.

“Now it’s your turn.”

Girl looked at the opened necklace, trepidation returning to her face. She reached for it, her hand quaking, hovering above it, and then she quickly retreated, shaking her head. 

“I—I can’t. I’m sor—I’m—“ Her arms were tucked against her chest, her hands in small fists against her collarbone, her eyes closed. 

Kylo let her breathe for a moment, observing her, thinking. This was not a normal reaction. No, this was something else. 

“Did one of your masters put a collar on you?” he asked.

She shuddered, another wave of tumultuousness flaring from her as she nodded. 

“The same one who made you call yourself ‘this slave’?”

She didn’t have to say or do anything for him to know it was true. How young had she been? How long had it lasted? Who would do such a thing to a child, even a slave child?

Kylo’s fists tightened. He was a real piece of shit for this.

“This is not a collar,” he tried to assure her. “It’s a necklace, very similar to things women wear on the Inner Rim. It’s this shape and size so it does not get removed by anyone who would not want me to find you.” He leaned forward, tapping the table near it. “This is to protect you, not to show my ownership, not to degrade you. Understand?” 

She swallowed, eyes still closed, and nodded.

“Yessir.”

She seemed to relax a fraction at that, hearing that it was not his way of trying to humiliate her. He probably should have led with that, but at least she heard it now. He let her calm down for a moment longer and then quietly offered,

“Shall I do it then?”

Her eyes opened, fearful, hopeful, desperate, unsure. She gave a tiny nod. 

Kylo stood, taking the step and a half to her side, picked up the open metal ring. Her wide eyes tracked his every move, her whole body tense.

“It’s not a collar,” he reminded her. “It’s coming off when I get back. It’s here to keep you safe, so I can find you. I doubt anything will happen, but for my peace of mind…”

She gave another small, jerking nod, her whole body trembling.

“I understand, Sir,” she rasped, lowering her arms, lifting her chin, baring her throat. 

Taking that as an assent, Kylo placed the ring about her neck, clicking it closed with finality, pleased to see it was not too snug around the collar of her uniform jacket. He tested the tightness of it with a finger, further reassured that it would not chafe at all, either above or below her clothes. 

“There,” he murmured, pulling away. Girl tentatively reached up with trembling fingers, touched the metal, and gave a sharp inhale. 

“And now I can always find you, No matter where you end up,” he added, indicating to the bracelet, “and you can always find me.”

Kylo returned to his seat, pulling his sleeve back down—noticing with mild curiosity as he brushed against the transmitter on the bracelet that the red light at Girl’s neck glowed for a beat in answer— then closed the case and set it aside, leaning back to observe Girl’s reaction.

She seemed far less unstable now, her small fingers still exploring the metal, although it could be mild shock for all he knew. She and her ways were still unpredictable to him, but it did not seem like she was about to have a fit so he took it as a win. 

“You can wear it above or below your jacket; it doesn’t matter. Whatever is more comfortable,” he said. “It’s water proof as well. It won’t break in the shower.”

She nodded, somewhat dazed. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, and Kylo tilted his head.

“For what?”

“For trying to keep me safe,” she answered, eyes lifting. 

“Well,” he mused, “You are mine to keep safe. It would be remiss of my duties for me to do otherwise.”

She frowned at the table, her hand finally dropping. And then her stomach very audibly growled, and she looked down in mortification, arms wrapping around her middle.

Kylo pressed his lips together, amused and somewhat grateful for the chance to segue into a different topic, the atmosphere a bit morose. Perhaps some food would help her. 

“I’ll go call the medbay.”

She sighed in defeat, scowling. 

“Thank you, Sir” she mumbled.

At the control panel by the front door he sent a message to the medical droid, then returned to his seat to continue his last-minute reading. Girl was also forlornly tapping at her datapad, her other hand skimming the necklace. 

It was less than two minutes later that the door beeped, and Kylo blinked, somewhat surprised at how fast the order was fulfilled. But when Girl got up to answer it, it beeped again, and that told him there was no droid behind the door.

“Wait,” he said, standing and putting a hand out to stop Girl. She frowned but paused, looking at him with a questioning face.

He motioned her back and then went to the door, opening it to reveal the young male officer from yesterday morning. He was even more stressed today, which did not bode well for either of them.

“What is it,” Kylo droned. 

“Milord,” the officer began. “Apologies for the early call, but I was sent here to—“

“And I told you yesterday that I have a mission,” Kylo snapped, “and it cannot be delayed.”

“I know, milord, I did convey that to the parties in charge, but it is apparently imperative that the meeting happen as soon as possible, which is why they scheduled it for this morning.”

_“What?”_ Kylo seethed. “What time?”

The officer swallowed, his voice cracking.

“Now, sir. They have all gathered in the conference room. I was sent to retrieve you.”

The air cracked like ice, and the officer flinched. Kylo was about to throw the man to the ceiling, but Girl’s anxious fretting behind him brought him back from the edge. 

He thought of the work he had yet to get done and reasoned that it could be finished on the ship, if it was needed at all. He hated that this meeting was happening now but he did not want to miss it. He did not want to seem like he was not invested in the goings on of his flagship. 

Fucking Hux was behind this, but if they had already gathered there was no getting around it. 

“Fine,” he bit out, then promptly willed the door shut. He stomped into his bedroom, grabbing his cowl from his chair and putting it on, hood up, and clipped on his saber. If he was going to this fucking meeting he was going to be intimidating about it.

“I’ll be back once the meeting is over to explain a few more things,” he told Girl, who stood frettingly by the table. “And then I and the Knights will leave.” He pointed to his work on the tabletop.

“Put these in my bag; I don’t want to waste anymore time when I get back.”

“Yessir,” she said, some tension leaving her shoulders.

“Good.”

And then he turned and walked back to the opened door, storming past the nervous officer who jumped back from looking at the damaged wall panel. Kylo palmed his commlink and sent a brief update to his Knights, his frustration almost causing him to crush the device in his hand. 

This meeting better actually be important or he was going to _truly_ kill Hux this time.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo whadja think? 👀
> 
> I drew a picture of Rey and her "necklace" for me (and you guys) to enjoy. I showed a tiny sneak peek of it to my [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/veggieheist_art) followers, but here it is in it's full glory:
> 
> I'll post it properly to Instagram later 😘
> 
> I enjoyed my two week break, although it was really only one week because last week I was back to writing 😂 I'm probably going to try to take breaks like this every so often so I can catch my breath. I realllyyyy don't want to get burnt out.  
> I appreciate everyone's patience while I got some R&R! And Thank You to everyone who reached out to have friendly chats on Instagram and Tumblr!! 😁✨❤️ I really enjoy chatting with you guys 🥰
> 
> Both I and [ Lulutina_art](http://www.instagram.com/lulutina_art) drew some fanart for ch 60 (one word: haaandddsss), so please check it out! 👀
> 
> Soooo next chapter update is gonna be a little different. Chapters 64 and 65 are finished, but theoretically they could be combined into one chapter. 65 is less than 2k words, which is much shorter than anything I've posted in a looooong time. I want them separate for Personal Reasons™️, but since 65 is so short, and after discussing it with my friend and my beta, I have decided that next week I am going to post both 64 AND 65, on the same day. Because I just love shooting myself in the face and ending up behind again in my writing schedule 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 Fuckkkkkkk, but it's better this way and I am the only one to blame lmfao 
> 
> Also I just wanted to assure you that I'm going to do my best to keep the Week Away on Phu _relatively_ succinct. I'm incredibly nervous, because there's a lot of important things that need to happen for both POVs and in order for it to come out feeling right to me it's going to take time to write--time that seems to be disappearing for me for some reason. But I'm just going to view it as a new challenge and do my best. 
> 
> ANYWAYS. 
> 
> Next chapter(s): A meeting, and a goodbye.  
> Posting date: **Wednesday, November 25th at 9PM Japan Time.**
> 
> Wanna chat but would rather do so privately? Find me here! 😁  
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> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com


	64. Culdranth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings! Enjoy!

* * *

The large conference room near the Bridge was indeed already seated with the rest of the members of High Command when Kylo swept into the room. It seemed they had even already started, the minuteswoman stopping mid-sentence in her address to the long table, all heads turning and the air tensing as Kylo filed down the room to his seat at the other head. 

“How gracious of you to take time out of your busy schedule to join us, Lord Ren,” Hux sneered, adding with no small amount of malicious smugness, “It’s been some time it seems since I’ve seen you on the Bridge. You’re looking in _good health_.”

Kylo sat, choosing to ignore the barbed jab, although his hand itched to wrap the Force around the man’s throat and crush it for what he had done to him on the _Supremacy._ Just the thought—watching Hux die in prolonged agony, gasping desperately for air through a pulverized windpipe— gave Kylo such a momentary rush that he had to mentally shake himself of it lest he actually act on it.

_You’ll get your own someday_ , Kylo thought darkly as he settled into his seat. _And I will make sure of it._

“The pleasantries are unnecessary, General, and a complete waste of our time here,” he growled instead. “Let’s get on with this; my schedule cannot be delayed more than it already is.”

“Of course,” Hux said with mock placation, then gave a curt nod to the minuteswoman, permitting her to continue. 

“As I was saying,” she started, “we have five items on the docket for today’s meeting. Item one: The Electrical Malfunctions on Level Three. Item two: Results from the Investigation into the Desertion of FN-2187 and Medicorps officer Sergeant Ferric Wolson. Item three: New Flight Procedures. Item Four: Security. And Item five: The Corporate Sector Authority. Let’s begin with item one…”

Kylo held in the sigh he felt building in his chest. He had no interest in electrical malfunctions and already knew what had happened with the traitors. Girl’s account was the only important one as far as he was concerned, although he was curious to hear about any sanctions or reprimands that had been doled out to the medbay. 

Security should be updated, and he would absolutely include his thoughts on the matter. New flight procedures were probably due to Hux’s ship being stolen. And as for the last item, anything to do with the CSA or other secret First Order political financiers made Kylo irrationally irritated. He was so sick of them and the influence they thought they had over the Order. Money was power to be sure, but Kylo knew that all the credits in the galaxy couldn’t stop him from killing every last one of the rich bastards if they ever overstepped themselves in regards to himself or his underlings. 

The meeting dragged on, punctuated by comments and questions, short discussions and decisions. And the longer it went, the more agitated Kylo became, his hand wrapping around the outline of his bracelet beneath his sleeve, squeezing until he knew there would be an imprint of it on his palm, reveling in the momentary distraction and slight release the ache gave him from the jitteriness he felt.

He needed to be going. He and the Knights should have been on the ship by now. 

He didn’t care about maintenance, he didn’t care about the illicit affair the traitors evidently had. He did _contemptuously_ accept the excuses from the investigative officer about how he and his Knights’ testimonies were unneeded now. And he did listen with vindictive satisfaction to the sanctions against Ithowim and Berg, among others, but since they had been found to have done nothing overtly wrong outside of not having done anything particularly _right,_ Kylo did not care much in the end.

Hux made a few pointed remarks directed at him, of course. Kylo expected nothing less.

“Speaking of deserters, is the Junk going with you on this mission of yours, Lord Ren, or should I have the shuttles and escape pods patrolled?”

“They should be patrolled regardless, General,” Kylo droned, only just containing his ire at the slur. “The investigation may be over but that doesn’t mean we can fall back into a false sense of security. There may be other traitors hiding amongst the crew that we don’t know about.”

Captain Phasma spoke up, her crude armor flashing as her head turned,

“I assure you, Lord Ren, the stormtroopers have all undergone additional reconditioning to stamp out any trace of insurrection.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about, do we,” Kylo droned, and then faced the table. “Girl is not in any position to be flying anything, much less attempting to steal a shuttle,” he argued. “Do not concern yourself with her, although if I come back to find any of my property damaged in any way, I will burn through this ship to find the culprit and exact the same thing,” he looked pointedly at Hux, “no matter who it turns out to be.”

“Nothing will happen to your slave, milord,” an admiral assured him, her words monotonous and her face stony. She turned back to the table.

“Commander Oriss, is there anything else from the investigation we should discuss?”

Kylo wanted nothing more than to get up and leave right then and there, especially catching Hux’s smarmy blue eyes looking his way, a shared glare of utter contempt between them. But he grit his teeth and stayed.

Speaking about the item on security, Kylo made sure to bring up all of his grievances, not even caring if his snark was inappropriate. He didn’t want to be here. They had scheduled this meeting now, so he was going to make it just as unbearable for them as it was for him.

Eventually he realized he was just holding himself hostage at this point, and allowed the meeting to continue to New Flight Procedures, managing to hold his tongue against sniping at Hux in case it started an argument and prolonged things further. 

Finally on the last item, Hux spoke up, his usual sneer somewhat subdued. 

“Our partners in the Corporate Sector Authority have voiced an interest in seeing for themselves where their generous funding has been put to use. They are sending an envoy to arrive here near Imperial Day, and Supreme Leader Snoke wants all of our prowess on full show for the audit. We will host them until they are satisfied and then they will continue on to pay respects to Supreme Leader Snoke on the _Supremacy._ As such, it is priority number one for everything on this ship to be in order for the time they are here.”

The Vice-Admiral frowned. 

“Well, with Imperial Day eight weeks away I think the ship will be more than prepared for their arrival.”

“That remains to be seen,” Kylo quipped.

“Indeed it does, Lord Ren,” Hux bit back. “It may be for the best to have your _brood_ somewhere off the ship during the visit.”

“They will be here with me, general, I assure you.”

“That’s less than assuring, Ren.”

Kylo leaned forward. 

“At that time, what you think will not matter, will it?” He sat back. “Everything will be in order among me and mine when the CSA envoy arrives. That is my final say on the matter.”

The table continued to stiffly discuss the initial plans for the CSA visit, scheduling more meetings in order to monitor the progress of things. Forty days to prepare seemed both more than enough and not nearly enough, depending on who was saying what from which sector, but in the end it had to be enough, because the date was basically set in stone. And they could not disappoint the CSA.

The minuteswoman stood again when the deliberations reached a finality.

“If there is nothing else to discuss, I will adjourn this meeting—“

An officer who had remained in silence until now raised his hand slightly from the table, drawing the room’s gaze to him. 

The minuteswoman gave a curt nod of recognition.  
  
“Commander Culdranth. Go ahead.”

Kylo took in a deep breath, gripping his fists on his thighs before forcing them to relax.

The elder officer, who had more metal and prosthetics than human flesh anymore, flicked a small sensor beneath his left ear before rising to his feet. 

Both of the man’s legs were robotic prostheses, and, having had one lung lost in the same accident that took his legs, he had a pneumatic compressor torso cast to help him breathe. The overall result was a tall, barrel-chested man with a series of tubes and wires making up his throat, which to Kylo was almost as unnerving as the man’s robotic left hand—a thing of persistent unease that annoyed Kylo because of what—and who—it reminded him of.

Six small electrodes dotted the officer’s aging face, their grey color in stark contrast to the powdery white of his skin. There were more on his fingers and arms, attached to his crisp uniform. They drew your attention, those electrodes, and as long as one did not engage in conversation with the Commander, their true purpose remained a mystery. 

Now on his feet, Commander Culdranth’s hands and arms began to gesture before him, his brows overly furrowed, lips creased in a thoughtful moue, and after a beat to translate the input, the small computer orator near his clavicles began to speak, the inflection deep with an electronic undertone.

<With Imperial Day and the CSA envoy imminent, it is important that the ship is in one-hundred percent top performance, in every sector.> He turned to Hux, his eyebrows rising, right fist tapping down on the left. <Correct?>

Hux’s strict face had a hint of annoyance as he replied, “Yes.”  
  
The commander continued, motions slow and deliberate, the spoken voice matching. 

<And that means we must all do our best to make sure the ship is doing the work it is meant to do, by any means necessary.>

“Yes, as I said.”

<And with the recent acts of treason and desertion, we must work even harder to correct the course of the ship, so that when the envoy arrives, there are no doubts about the strength and vitality of the _Finalizer,_ and the First Order.>

Hux was visibly annoyed, although he tried to keep himself poised. 

“Yes, Commander, that is also correct.”  
  
Culdranth nodded, his face thoughtful, but in a knowing sort of way that immediately had Kylo peering at him in suspicion.

For someone who could no longer speak through normal means, the commander had a way with circumventing his point with words, seemingly without aim. Kylo had little patience for it, although it was amusing to watch him string Hux around on occasion before putting him in his place, Culdranth’s station being below the redhead notwithstanding. 

The commander was old enough to have served in the Imperial army, and probably would have been made Admiral or even General had he not been so grievously afflicted by the war. He showed respect towards Hux’s position, but it often seemed to Kylo to be a sort of amused patience, as if in his old age the commander saw Hux as nothing more than a child playacting as general, and Culdranth was merely playing along. There was this secret smile he had that betrayed him on occasion, although with the box on his chest speaking it was impossible to accuse him of being disrespectful with tone. But Kylo could tell, he could sense it. 

Having a less than cordial relationship with the commander, Kylo did not like how Culdranth acted the same way towards himself sometimes, saying one thing with his hands but communicating another with his thin lips and mental aura, but Kylo took some glee in how the old officer rankled Hux, so he usually let it pass in spite of how it unnerved him.

It was the commander’s overproduced expressions that did it. They felt unnecessary and strange. Surely the electrodes were advanced enough to pick up less pronounced muscle inflections? Surely this _theater_ was unneeded? It unsettled Kylo, but he refused to admit it to anyone, especially since the rest of command seemed to not care as much.

“Is there anything _new_ you were going to add, commander?” The general asked with a scowl.

Commander Culdranth’s gaze was on the table as his mouth pursed for a second, before his face smoothed into one of professional stoicism.

<Yes, general.> His hands signed with emphasis, gaze lifting, expression turning needlessly dire, <There is an _issue. >_

Hux twitched.

“What issue?”

<An issue to do with a unit of droids that require replacement.>

He was already looking at Kylo as the orator finished translating the final gesture, and the Force-sensitive man stiffened in his seat, his hands fisting on the table. The room’s occupants shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as the air grew colder. 

He should have known that something like this was going to come up, although he thought the general would be the one to say something. Engineering had been much too quiet after he’d destroyed all those droids, and Kylo now wondered if that had been Hux’s doing, muting them so as to create a bigger impact when he tattled to Snoke. 

Kylo expected this sort of back-handed sneakery during meetings from Hux, not Culdranth. What was the old man playing at? Hadn’t Kylo been punished enough?

“Oh?” Hux asked, suddenly a predator scenting blood, his sharp eyes glancing at Kylo before zeroing back in on the commander, full of interest. “And what about it? I was under the impression that things were being taken care of in that regard.”

The commander switched to making eye contact with the general, gestures still leisurely paced.

<As the one in charge of overseeing the engineering and factory works aboard the _Finalizer,_ it is my duty to make sure this ship and its various machinery stays in top form. I have always been able to perform my duty, guaranteeing timely repairs and efficient upkeep. It is an honor to do so, and one I find a satisfying vocation in.>

Hux was becoming impatient again, the tendon in his jaw flexing with his contained annoyance. 

“Yes, of course, and we commend you on your impressive length and record of service, commander. _What is the issue?_ ” 

The commander breathed in deeply, the whir of machinery betraying the hidden inner workings of his chest. The air was exhaled slowly, leisurely, and then his hands moved.

<A unit of damaged droids was taken down to the Yard some weeks back. We separated the ones in most disrepair from the fixable lot, in order to inventory them and request replacements from the manufacturing counsel on the _Supremacy._ With the number of droids and the type of damage they sustained,> his eyes flickered to Kylo, then back, <it took some time to inspect them and organize. We were finally able to send a request two weeks ago, and communications with the counsel had been normal, with replacements on track. We packed the unfixable units onto a transport and sent it off.>

Hux frowned.

“I wasn’t aware that you have been sending damaged droids to the _Supremacy,_ commander.”

The commander paused, shrugging, hands fluttering with casual acceptance, his expression one of the same. 

<We have a more than capable machinery shop to recycle the metal and parts, but it is protocol to exchange them when requests for new ones are accepted from the _Supremacy._ It is to prevent any one ship from obtaining too many units, broken or otherwise. If a ship containing more droids or other machinery than is strictly doled out, finds itself destroyed in warfare, it could cause a minor shortage that could cripple the fleet. The _Supremacy_ is a great creator, but it is still limited by available stock and the constraints of time, labor, and funds.>

“So,” Hux ground out, “What is the issue, commander? Have we obtained too many units?”

With the shake of his head, the officer brought three fingers of his right hand together twice in a motion that almost looked like he was telling the general to shut his mouth. 

<No,> came the electronic voice from the gesture.

Kylo still wasn’t sure where the commander learned to communicate with his hands and expressions this way, but he wasn’t convinced such a gesture _wasn’t_ the old man’s idea and form of amusement.

However, although it was always titillating to see him use the gesture on Hux, Kylo was finding himself to be losing his patience with it now. He had a mission to attend to. This was wasting too much time.

“What happened to the droids you tried to acquire?” He asked the officer.

Culdranth turned his eyes back to Kylo, lips twitching downwards.

<They did not come. The Supremacy sent back our transport with all of the broken droids still on board.>

“Why?” Asked Hux.

<Our request was retroactively denied.>

_“What?”_ The general fumed. “Was there a mistake in the order form?”

At that the commander’s gesture was slightly more sharp when he replied,

<No.>

“Then why was it sent back?”

<The denial came from Supreme Leader Snoke directly,> Culdranth gave a pointed look away, towards the vague direction of the massive capitol ship, his hands following. <So you will have to ask _him. >_

The air around Kylo froze, the tension reaching peak levels as he warred with himself, a brackish mixture of anger, anxiety, fear, and embarrassment like a churning acid in his gut. No doubt this had to do with what Hux had told Snoke. No doubt this was just a continuation somehow of Kylo’s punishment. What was no longer a physical reprimand was now a lashing of his ego, a show of his lack of control in front of the entire officer rank.

The commander continued, gaze moving between general and Dark Lord.

<The issue, gentlemen, is that in eight weeks an envoy of our most important investors are coming to see what their money has bought them, and they will find a ship with a unit of unfixable droids.>

“What are our options?” Kylo asked. “Can the droids just be trashed in an airlock?”

<No.>

Kylo scowled.

<We cannot allow our technology to fall into the hands of the enemy, even broken as it is. Nor can we incinerate them. We will not receive replacements if we do not have something to exchange.>

“Then we sequester them somewhere during the time the envoy is here,” an admiral suggested, drawing a sour gaze from the general. 

Culdranth made a thoughtful face, although Kylo knew it was false. There was a ‘no’ coming.

<The issue there is that these droids are most of them run by hydron drives. Which means if they are not recycled or disposed of properly and in a timely manner, they will become highly unstable.>

Hux’s nose wrinkled in outrage. 

“So what are you saying, commander?”

The officer gave him a glowering look. 

<I’m saying they’re going to become time bombs, general. With a clock set near the envoy date.>

The room was still as the electronic words settled like shattered glass around them. Not one person reacted or otherwise moved lest they be cut by the implications. 

Kylo tried to keep himself under control, but he knew his failures were rearing their heads once again, only this time it was well and truly putting the entire ship in danger. 

“What are our options then,” he repeated. 

Again the commander gave a thoughtful look, as if he hadn’t come prepared with something already, and it took everything in Kylo not to smash the man’s face in and give him a reason to implant a fake jaw to go with his metal appendage ensemble.

<I will send another request,> he finally signed. <Perhaps the Supreme Leader will be in a more accepting mood.>

“You could have sent another request already,” Hux snapped. “Instead of wasting time here.”

The commander raised a brow, his secret smile twitching in and out of view.

<But then you would not be made aware of the situation. And isn’t that what these meetings are for, general?>

Hux’s jaw worked around the words he no doubt wanted to spit out at the man, but decorum stayed his tongue. 

“Once again, Commander Culdranth, you are correct,” he finally ground out.

At that the officer did smile.

<Thank you, general.> He turned to the minuteswoman. <I concede the floor to you, ma’am.> And then he sat, flicking the sensor beneath his ear to completely signal his rest from communicating.   
  
The room was silent again, the lack of spoken words deafening. 

“We will continue to monitor the situation,” Hux finally said sourly. “And discuss possible solutions.”

Commander Culdranth nodded along with the rest of the table’s occupants, but Kylo found himself seething in his seat, rigid and cold.

He wasn’t sure Snoke would accept the second request. It might have to be written from him, or he might have to go to the _Supremacy_ on Culdranth’s behalf and request in person. 

The idea turned his stomach, but he shook the feeling off. That was weakness. His master was wise, and was only doing this to further prove his point to Kylo. He should accept this and learn from it, grow from it. 

He would be stronger from this in the end. 

But that did not mean he wasn’t fucking _pissed_ about it. 

The meeting finally adjourned and Kylo was up and storming out of the room, switching on his commlink to alert his Knights of his freedom and command them to meet him at the shuttle soon, his heavy boots taking him to the nearest express lift bound for his level.

There was no more time to waste. They had to get going. The sooner they left, the sooner they could come back, and Kylo did not want to be away for any longer than he needed to be.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of you are going to skip reading this to get to the next chapter but I have to quickly say that I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT COMMANDER CULDRANTH, YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I'VE WAITED TO FINALLY TRULY HAVE HIM SHOW UP. I FIRST VAGUELY REFERENCED HIM IN CHAPTER 37. THIRTY-SEVEN. AHHHH. Omg shit is finally starting to come togetherrrrrr slowly but surelyyyy  
> Also, FUCK YEAH SIGN LANGUAGE IS SO FUCKING COOL. I AM SO EXCITED TO TRY WRITING IT.


	65. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> # 🌟 MAKE SURE YOU READ CHAPTER 64 🌟

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Issa a shortie but a goodie

* * *

Girl was sat cross-legged on the couch when Kylo entered his rooms. She looked up from her datapad with a small jolt, then sagged minutely in relief. 

“That was a long meeting,” she said quietly, unfolding her legs to stand. 

“I know,” Kylo growled as he swept past into his bedroom. The table was cleared aside from Girl’s empty cup, but Kylo still checked his bag to be sure she had followed his instructions, finding his datapad and things were neatly added inside, organized by size. Satisfied, and somewhat mollified by it, Kylo closed up the satchel, took a few steadying breaths to ease the lingering anger from his mind, and returned to the adjacent room.

Girl was sat again, looking down at the device on her lap, but a forlorn dread was a near-visible cloud above her. 

“Stuck again?” He asked as he approached, although he knew that’s not why she was hunched over and brooding.

“A little,” she murmured. 

“You’ll get it eventually,” he said. 

She gave a small nod. 

“Maybe.”

Kylo sighed, and she looked up, a worry line between her brows.

“Come sit,” he told her, motioning to the bedroom. “There are important things to tell you.”

She left the device on the couch and followed him in. They both sat, her bent posture still giving away what her gloomy thoughts didn’t.

“How are your wounds?” Kylo asked, realizing he had forgotten to ask earlier.

“They’re fine, Sir,” she answered quietly. “They’re healing. Lord Tomaxx gave me a salve to protect from infection, and it seems to work well too.”

Kylo cocked his head. 

“Did he now.”

“Yessir.” Her voice lowered further, her eyes looking aside, “I don’t think I’ll need it anymore, so I think it should be returned.”

“I’ll give it to him,” he promised.

She looked relieved, glancing up. 

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll go get it.” 

She got up silently, her box making a sound on the floor after a moment, and then returned to place a small jar on the table. 

Kylo picked it up with a frown, observing it while Girl sat down. 

“Tomaxx gave this to you?”

“Yessir. While you were talking with Lord Cseenan. He said I could get an infection from Lord Cseenan’s claws. He said it wouldn’t be good for me to get sick while you’re away.”

Kylo hummed in agreement, and then concentrated to push the jar with the Force, floating it to his satchel. It was a relief to have no tingling, no cramps from the action. He was glad to at least be able to do this without problems anymore. 

And, the wide-eyed look from Girl was satisfying to see.

“Do you remember what I told you I wanted you to do while I’m away?” He asked, bringing her attention back.

She nodded. 

“Yessir. You want me to meditate and try to build up the wall.”

“That’s right. We’ll test it when I get back.” 

Last night her mind was like a broken speaker, loudly blaring static and occasional sounds and muffled words because of her distress from the nightmare. Even when he was sure she was mostly asleep, her mind buzzed with anxiousness, and it had made it slightly difficult for him to sleep as well—although that could have been partly from his own anticipation.

“And,” she started, then hesitated, her eyes flickering to the side, hands coming up to flatten on the tabletop. “And you’ll show me the other thing too? The other method to help?”

Kylo nodded, although he didn’t want to think about it. It was for her own good, though. Her meltdowns were only going to get more dangerous as she became able to control more of the Force. Cutting her off was safer for all of them. 

It was for the best. 

And Supreme Leader demanded it. Kylo would not disobey. 

Girl nodded back.

“I promise I’ll try my hardest while you’re gone, Sir. I’ll build a better barrier so I’m not so loud anymore.”

“I know you will,” he told her quietly. “But you need to make sure you don’t feed your fears in the process. It is especially important that you control yourself, because—“ he pulled out her identichip, then slid it towards her on the table “—I am giving this to you for safekeeping.”

She caught it beneath her hand, curiously peering at it.

Kylo continued,

“That will open the front door. Among others.”

She looked up in shock. 

“Why are you giving it to me?” she asked in a hushed voice. “I made a fool of myself last night, Sir. I tried to leave the ship. I was _crazed._ I—I shouldn’t be trusted with this.” She started to give it back, but Kylo held up a hand to stop her.

“You need this because if something happens you need to be able to get to an escape pod.”

She pulled back, holding it to her tightly. 

“I doubt anything will happen, but, just in case,” he said. Then he took a breath, let it out. “And, you can leave the rooms, but only for emergencies or medical reasons.”

Hope lit up her eyes. Her hand moved to the tabletop again.

“Can I—“ she swallowed, her throat working around whatever words she wanted to say, her mind at staticky war with herself. After a beat Kylo quietly prodded her,

“Can you what?”

Girl hunched slightly, nervous.

“Can I walk the corridor? Just, just this one, Sir. Just so I can try and strengthen my legs.”

He wanted to say no, he wanted to make her stay here, where he knew she would be safer. But his eyes fell on the metal around her neck, and he knew the crew—the one’s daring enough to come to this level at all—would not dare risk his wrath either by accosting her. She would be fine, it was a good idea, and she’d found the courage to _ask,_ so he nodded. 

“You may, as long as you have FX-8 with you, just in case.”

She gave a shivering exhale, nodding.

“Yessir, thank you, Sir. I will.”

“And stay on this level. Do not go anywhere else. And don’t talk to anyone.”

She gave a more sober nod.

“Yessir.”

He thought for a moment, and added, “If you need anything, you c—“

Kylo’s comm beeped, cutting him off. He lifted it, already knowing who was probably calling.

“Ren.”

_“Master, Cseenan and I are ready at the ship.”_

Girl stiffened and looked down at the table quickly. 

“Good,” Kylo replied. “I’ll be down shortly.”

_“We’ll begin startup.”_

He put the commlink away and looked at Girl. She had a tight expression on her face, her chest expanding and constricting just enough for it to be noticeable that she was trying to breathe through the tumultuous emotions flaring around her. 

“As I was saying,” Kylo continued, “If you need anything, you can use the control screen by the door. You can call for FX-8 from there.”

Girl nodded, murmuring, “Okay.”

Kylo stood, moving to sling his satchel over his shoulder. He felt tense, and wary. It was probably pre-mission jitters, which even he got on occasion. Or it could be influence from Girl’s blaring anxiety.

“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ll show you.”

She stood and followed him on silent feet to the screen by the door, where he quickly explained how to call for FX-8, or the medbay in general. 

“Now show me,” he told her, and with only a short, uncertain pause, Girl stepped forward to tap through the screens as he had said, until she got to the final check— _“Call for Medical Droid FX-8? YES or NO.”_  
  
“Alright,” Kylo said when she looked up for what to do next. “Very good. Cancel it.” 

She did, then stepped back, her hands held in a tight grip at her middle, the strained quality back in her face. 

“Keep the identichip on you at all times,” he told her. “Without it you’ll be locked out of the room until a droid comes.”

“Yessir, I understand.”

“It will also be best if you stick to a daily schedule. Wake up, shower, eat, meditate, then study or do mind puzzles or walk. Browse the holonet, even. Don’t just lay around.”

She looked up with a stern frown. 

“I won’t lay around, Sir.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” Kylo mumbled.

He looked down at her, and she up at him, and like last time he had to go, Kylo found that he did not like being on this side of leaving any more than the other. 

Had his father felt this way, pulled away by something when he actually wanted to stay? 

_Probably not_ , thought Kylo dourly, and then shoved the thought away.

“I’ll see you in five days,” he said in finality. 

Her hand came up, her fingertips brushing the metal of her transmitter as she nodded. 

“Five days,” she murmured, then louder added, “I hope your mission is successful, Sir, and that there are no problems.”

Kylo nodded. 

“As do I.”

There was another pause, and he knew he needed to go, he was wasting time, the Knights were waiting, so he gave a quiet, “Stay out of trouble,” willed the door open, and willed himself to turn and walk out, his mind pushing aside all of the ship nonsense, the droid unit problem, the thoughts of Girl, all replaced with the mission at hand and what lay ahead. 

He had done all he could to prepare Girl for the week he would be gone. And really, it was probably all overkill. He was only going to be away for five days, and the ship was secure, and they were safe in the Unknown Regions, and _very_ unlikely to be attacked. She was young but she wasn’t stupid; she’d survived just fine on Jakku, evidently. She would be fine on the _Finalizer._

_She’ll be fine_ , he thought, a final note to himself before the mission plans took up residence.

The ship was all but lifted off by the time Kylo got to the hangar, the ramp rising almost as soon as he stepped up on it. Once he stowed his satchel he joined his Knights in the cockpit, sitting in the chair behind Tomaxx, who was sat in the pilot seat. 

“Everything alright, Master?” He asked as the ship rose and pivoted to face the open bay door. 

“Yes,” Kylo said, sitting back stiffly. He would tell them about the meeting contents later because they needed to be aware of the CSA envoy’s imminent visit, and the droid unit would be a shadow on his back as well, but things were _alright._

He just hoped the mission went according to plan, because he did not want to be gone longer than five days. He made a promise. And Kylo Ren did not break his promises. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I wanted this and ch 64 as separate chapters for Personal Reasons™️, but this one is too damn short to post all on its lonesome.
> 
> SO. What do you guys think of ch 64 and 65? 👀 Things be happenin'.
> 
> Also, if you skipped my end note last chapter, I will say again how EXCITED I AM ABOUT COMMANDER CULDRANTH.  
> THINGS  
> ARE  
> SETTING  
> UP  
> FOR THE NEXT BIG ARC. 🙌✨ 
> 
> Anyways,  
>  **Next chapter: The boys are finally on Phu ✨  
>  Posting date: Thursday, December 3rd at 9PM Japan time. (I appreciate your patience as I'm slowly making my way back to Sunday postings 😇 )**
> 
> P.S. I've got a lot of new readers (YAY!) who weren't around for the Kerfuffle of 57, so I've been getting questions lately about Why Kylo isn't taking off his helmet or When is Rey gonna tell him her name. These questions are fine, I love curious readers❤️, but since I have already given a pretty sufficient answer in my Dissertation™️ it does get a tiny bit tedious to keep saying the same thing ad nauseum. So I'm thinking of making a FAQ page to direct people to, that will basically be my Dissertation™️ but in a less dramatic format. I wonder if it would be better to make a separate AO3 work, or do it on Tumblr? 🤔 In either case, a FAQ page is coming 😌
> 
> Come find me here!  
> ✨Instagram✨  
> [✨Tumblr✨](%E2%80%9Chttp;//www.veggieheist.tumblr.com%22)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com


	66. Settling In and Setting Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings! Enjoy✨

* * *

Rey watched Lord Ren walk out into the corridor until the door shut. She immediately realized that she hadn’t told him that FX-8 told her she would be starting on watered down nutrimeal at luncheon, and she almost ran out after him. 

But it wasn’t important; not compared to the mission. And he had basically already said goodbye, so anything more would just be awkward at this point. And so, wrenching herself away from the door, Rey went back to sit at the couch with her datapad instead. 

_I did well,_ she thought. No tears, no begging, no freaking out in other ways and making more of a fool of herself. 

She’d kept herself relatively calm. She’d reminded herself over and over while he was in the meeting, _he’s coming back, his bracelet won’t come off without me, he’ll be back in five days, it’ll be fine._

It was so stupid, how worried she was, how anxious. So, so stupid. So _ridiculous._

And it didn’t make sense, how much she didn’t want him to go, how afraid of his absence she was. If anything she should be glad to see him go, him and the Knights. All they had done was cause her pain and grief and suffering, but even though she didn’t understand it, and even though that frightened her even more for some reason, she still had a terrible tightness and an anxiety in her chest at the thought of her master leaving.

_Come on, stupid,_ she’d thought. _Get it together. Be strong. Don’t be a burden._

_Fight the fear._

So she’d focused on her breathing, blanking out her mind as best she could so her thoughts wouldn’t broadcast how awful she felt. She didn’t want to seem needy, although she had a feeling it was too late for that. 

The collar _—necklace,_ she reminded herself—had seemed like a good contingency plan for any other kidnappings, but now she wondered if her master hadn’t given it to her just to ease her anxiety about him leaving. It was like he somehow knew that she needed extra validation and security that he would come back. 

The more she thought about it, the more she appreciated him for his efforts, even though the idea of the _necklace_ still made her slightly nauseous and shaky. For a few minutes after he had left for the meeting she’d thought she was going to have another panic attack, convinced it was shrinking and choking her.

But the more she touched it, the more she felt it’s smooth metal and the slight texture from the small red light, and the more she remembered what it was connected to, and why—not to show ownership, not to humiliate her, but for _safety—_ the less horrible it seemed. 

It did feel kindof like a necklace. A fancy necklace, like what a wealthy lady might wear.   
  
That thought had Rey shaking her head and recoiling, as if the mere idea in her head was forbidden, a beating offense. She didn’t deserve to even entertain the thought. 

Rey sat on the couch and tried to distract herself with the puzzle, but it wasn’t long before she felt it—her master actually, truly _leave._

And like before, it stole the breath from her lungs while at the same time inflating them. The sudden disappearance of the darkness that the three males exuded was like lifting a heavy weight from her chest. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be without their constant presence, their constant darkness, always on the edges of her senses if not directly on top of them. 

Rey was fine with Lord Tomaxx and Cseenan taking their oily, gritty blackness with them, but now she found her master’s shadowy coldness missing as if someone had yanked a cold blanket from her. 

Even though it made her shiver, there was a comfort in it. And now it was gone. 

_Breathe, stupid, breathe. You’ll be fine. You have things to do, things your master wants you to do. And you can walk the corridor, to get stronger. This week will be good, you can do good, and when he gets back, you can prove how well you can obey even when he’s gone._

Yes. She would take advantage of the free time as well as she could. She’d build the wall, and figure out a way to be less afraid. 

It was a good plan.

Rey still let herself cry, though. She couldn’t stop the tears when she felt her master truly disappear, her despair and anxiety overwhelming her, her chest feeling so empty for some reason, so she quietly shuddered and sobbed on the couch—but only for a little while. Eventually she knew she was just wasting time and energy, so she got up and washed her face in the ‘fresher, drank water from her cup, refilling it to bring with her back to the couch.

And then she sat, a schedule of how to spend the next five days already forming in her head, and began to distract herself from the aching _aloneness_ with another mind puzzle.

* * *

The rest of the day started out so much like her first days aboard the ship that Rey thought she was surely going to go mad before Lord Ren even returned, although the mind puzzles and short breaks to pace helped break up the tedium before luncheon came. 

  
She was so out of shape, though. She only managed to go for about ten minutes at a time before she was panting, spots in her vision, sweat beading beneath her uniform, head feeling light. She begrudgingly put the blood pressure band back on to make sure she wasn’t overdoing it, to make sure she stopped before actually fainting, sitting down to drink water and catch her breath. 

She used to be able to go for days in the scorching heat, used to drag heavy machinery, and climb starship carcasses. Now she could barely walk. It was shameful. 

After the third time of nearly fainting—she ended up stumbling to her knees, gasping for air, the band shrieking—she decided she’d would wait for FX-8, and then after lunch she would have him walk with her in the corridor. She didn’t want to waste anymore time, no matter how weak she was or how anxious she was about actually leaving the rooms. 

Before, the white walls had seemed like a prison, like a cage. But now that her master was gone off the ship they felt like a safe haven. That her master was worried enough about her safety to actually put a tracking collar _—necklace—_ on her and give her a key to the door, made her extra nervous to leave the rooms. He wouldn’t do these things without cause, right? Should she be more worried? Should she even risk going out to the corridor at all?

She could feel herself becoming too anxious, too close to panic again, so she took up her datapad and reread the Way of Ren for the five hundredth time, and then went through the First Order code book and quizzed herself, until the band on her wrist stopped blinking yellow and her chest didn’t ache anymore. 

Eventually the door beeped, and FX-8 entered. Her blood was tested—still slightly anemic, but less so—and then he gave her another cup, half full with nutrimeal this time instead of broth or juice. 

Looking at it now, Rey could vaguely remember the bowl that Lord Ren had ordered for her the day she yelled at him, the day she collapsed. This was obviously a watered down version; drinkable instead of eaten with a spoon. She was both excited with the prospect of actual food, and nervous. Even though it was her heart that had given out last time, what if the nutrimeal had also caused her to collapse? What if it did again?

<consume it slowly,> the droid told her. <I will wait to monitor you for thirty minutes after.>

“Okay,” Rey said, somewhat relieved, and took a small sip—just enough to remember the taste, too afraid like last time that her stomach would reject anymore than a drop. 

It was much blander than the supplements, but she found the slightly thicker texture more enjoyable. And, she especially liked how the more she drank, the heavier her belly felt. 

It was a good feeling, being full. 

After slowly imbibing it over the span of forty minutes or so, Rey passed the now-empty cup to the droid, smacking her lips.

<How do you feel?> he asked.

She frowned as she sat still, feeling for anything off. All she could detect was the heaviness and a warmth centered around her middle. 

“I feel fine,” she answered. “Just full, and warm.”

FX-8 beeped in acknowledgment. 

<You may experience lethargy from your body working to break down the more solid food, and from the potent nutrients.>

Lethargy meant sleepy, and sleepy meant not walking the corridor. 

“Can we go for a walk?” She asked. “Just in the corridor.”

<It is better to sit and wait, because it is unknown still how your body will react to the more solid food. Tomorrow is a better time.>

Rey sagged, breathing out a heavy sigh.

She would just walk in here, then. 

“Okay, thank you.”

True to its programming, the droid stayed in the rooms for thirty minutes after she finished, then took another blood sample, and asked her questions. The sample showed the nutrients were absorbing better into her blood, which was good, although there was no change yet in her anemia. 

<It is too soon to tell a difference,> he assured her when she gave another forlorn sigh. <Tomorrow there may be a difference.>

“Sure wish tomorrow would come already,” Rey grumbled, but ultimately thanked the droid again, seeing it off at the door. 

She wanted to walk, to pace, but she made it barely a few circuits around the room before she felt too tired to continue, and, to her nervousness, her stomach was beginning to twinge from the movement as well. 

Somewhat defeated, grumbling, frustrated, but ultimately resigned, Rey made her way back to the couch and picked up her datapad to find something to do. 

Ten minutes later, she was asleep. 

* * *

When she woke up some time later, her terrible grogginess was gone in a flash as she sat up quickly, gasping, because what if Lord Ren saw—

She stilled.

_Oh._

_Nevermind._

Rey knew she could lay about and sleep for most of the time during the week, which would certainly make the time go by faster, but that’s not what her master had bade her to do. Even so, taking naps after having a heavier-than-normal meal probably wouldn’t have garnered her too much of a reprimand if he had been there. Probably. Maybe not.

She wasn’t sure anymore. 

He was so difficult to read, so difficult to predict, and since he’d patched her up it seemed only worse now. She didn’t want to be lulled into a false sense of security only for him to turn around and burn her nerves with the Force again. She was bound to misread him and make a mistake, and when that happens she’s sure he’s going to revert back to his usual violent ways. Although, he _did_ promise. And it seemed like he was trying. But she’d see what he would do when he got back. His promise might not last the week away.

Rey scowled. His inconsistent moods made her head hurt. 

She blew out a breath, and then stretched the crick from her neck. According to her datapad it had been three hours since she’d had her luncheon, and the time jump made her heart pick up. She wasted three hours sleeping when she should have been trying to meditate or do something productive. 

FX-8 would be back again with dinner in a couple hours, and she had a feeling she was probably going to fall asleep again afterwards, which meant if she wanted to meditate, she needed to do it _now._

The decision brought up a jitteriness within her, an anxious excitement. She was looking forward to starting, to building the wall, but she was also afraid of triggering another bad memory. Maybe she should have given her identichip to FX-8 for safekeeping from her, since she’d almost tried to leave the ship last night and probably would have gotten very close if the door had not been shut tight. 

_No,_ she thought with a frown. _Lord Ren gave the chip to you. He’s trusting you to not have a crazy mental breakdown. He’s choosing to give you a bit of freedom. Don’t spit on that._

She needed to get herself out of the waking nightmares herself. There was no Nybian to hold and sing with, there was no Troog to slap her out of it. She did not want to force Lord Ren to have to cause her pain or freeze her in order to shock her back into reality. The thought made her feel even more ashamed. 

_If I have a scary vision_ , she decided, _I will lock myself in the ‘fresher._

Satisfied with the idea, Rey sat crosslegged on the floor. She tried to remember the correct posture—back straight, shoulders relaxed, chin up, hands in her lap—and became worried that it wouldn’t work if she wasn’t one-hundred percent perfect in her form. 

But then she also remembered that her first time meditating was when she was crouched on the floor, _definitely not_ in any good form at all, and figured that what she was able to accomplish now was just going to have to be good enough until her master came back and could correct her more. 

Without him there to grip her wrists she was left to try and recreate the feeling by gripping them herself, and it worked, sort of. It wasn’t exactly the same, but it would have to do.

And then soon she was closing her eyes, breathing, counting, focusing on the pressure on her wrists. Without Lord Ren’s voice to guide her, it took much longer for her to see the desert place and the dune. And even then it faded in and out, so fragile was her concentration. She broke out of it once, giving a shuddering breath, blinking in the light of the room, and almost dug her fingernails into her skin in frustration. 

But what if Lord Ren felt it? 

That thought alone stopped her, although she did grip her fists tightly and grit her teeth for a moment. 

_Come on, you can do this_ , she told herself, and got back into position. 

She decided to try something Nybian used to do to help calm her and focus her mind—she tried humming. It wasn’t a particular tune, just a deep, low, tone, pushed out quietly with every counted exhale. She knew Lord Ren would not approve of it because it was music, and music was prohibited, but he wasn’t here. She was going to learn how to meditate without it. Just not right now.

When she saw the desert and dune again she almost broke out of it because of her sudden joy, but managed to stay firm, and eventually the haziness solidified more, and finally, finally, with slow, careful concentration, stone by stone,

Rey was able to start building again. 

* * *

After a while of the slow imagining of her thoughts being corralled with rock, she was jerked from her mind by the door beeping and opening to FX-8, making her gasp and look around in confusion as the dune and the carefully stacked stones disappeared. 

How long had she been sitting here for? 

Well, however long it had been, it was apparently enough to make her butt ache and her legs fall asleep. She stretched them out, massaging them and wiggling her dead feet to try and wake them up. The pins and needles made her grit her teeth and hiss, a pained laugh escaping. 

<Are you alright?> FX-8 asked as it wheeled closer.

“Yeah,” Rey gritted. “Just give me a minute. My legs fell asleep.”

She was able to shakily stand and make her way back to the couch after a minute or so, grateful to sit on the more comfortable, less cold cushion. She was tired, and there was a small headache blooming behind her eyes, but somehow she was also feeling more energetic than she had in a long while. 

Another blood test, and this time the droid informed her the numbers were better. 

<Your hemoglobin count has improved. Perhaps by the day after tomorrow you will be in the safe zone>

It was wonderful news, and Rey wished Lord Ren was there to hear it. It was more evidence that she was finally healing.

“Do you think it’s the nutrimeal that’s helping?” She asked as she took the proffered cup. 

<Perhaps. The fiber could be aiding your body to absorb the iron better. There may also be an unknown factor. More tests would have to be performed to check>

“I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as it’s working,” she mumbled around the lip of the cup, then took a sip. The dinner ‘meal’ went down a bit faster than the luncheon one, her excitement that it was helping her overriding her caution, although she still took care to slow down when her stomach gave a small twinging protest. 

FX-8 stayed again until he was satisfied with no ill-effects, but didn’t take another blood sample. He told her he would be back in the morning, and left. 

Rey worked on another mind puzzle until she started to nod off, and then she decided an early sleep was probably warranted since she barely got any sleep the night before. She changed into her sleep clothes—gasping at the cold necklace against her skin— put on new bacta patches—very pleased to see the scratches healing well, with no sign of infection— cleaned her teeth and face, used the toilet, and then crawled into bed. 

The lights were still on, but it didn’t matter when she pulled the blanket up over her head. Tomorrow she’d explore the control screen to see if she could find a way to adjust the lights, but for now she was just too tired. 

And so, with her belly still warm and full, and her mind exhausted from the emotions and mental work of the day, it took less than five minutes after her head hit the pillow for Rey to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, one fist pressed against the ache in her chest, the other fingers wrapped loosely around the metal band at her throat.

* * *

〜〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜〜

* * *

Kylo stepped down the lowered ramp of the shuttle, his brown hooded cape fluttering in the compressed air from the exhaust. Almost immediately upon walking into the muggy slog that was the current Phu weather, sweat began to bead on his forehead beneath the Kerestian-style mask he wore. 

Droids and Phuii and dock workers scurried about the large docking bay, tending to the other ships coming and going— transports with cargo, space yachts with moneyed tourists, and shuttles with merchants making port or ascending into the air. It had been just over three hours since Kylo and the Knights had left the _Finalizer,_ so their internal clock told them it should be just about luncheon, but here on this part of Phu it was early morning. The sun was still rising over the distant forested mountains, the docking bay alit with humid, orange light.

It was going to be a long, hot day. 

Tomaxx stepped up beside Kylo, his dark green cowl up around his similarly-masked head. 

“I’ll deal with the inspectors,” he said in a low voice, the sound different from the way his usual vocomodulator changed it. 

Kylo nodded, and the Knight moved forward to greet the approaching docking bay inspection duo. He watched Tomaxx hand over his fake identichip, speaking lowly to the two Phuii, their long necks bending to hear him. Their large eyes glazed over for a moment, greenish lips moving, tapping at their datapads with long fingers. Then they blinked and nodded, handing his chip back, and moved away. 

Footsteps behind him announced Cseenan’s descent, and Kylo turned his head an inch to watch the Barabel scent the air, the leather muzzle-like mask strapped about his snout giving him just enough room to be able to do so. He wore dusty blue robes, belted with a simple rope, the leather on his maw pressed with the seal of a silent monastery from the planet Uvich. 

The monkish ensemble was designed to make others feel less intimidated by the Barabel, more likely to ignore or not pay too much attention to him, but it was deceiving. With a yank the leather could be ripped off and the full potential of his razor sharp teeth made reality again. Even without use of his teeth, however, his saber was still hidden among the folds of cloth, his claws still deadly as well. 

Given recent events Kylo did not like the muzzled look, and it was Cseenan’s least favorite disguise as well, but it was needed for the secret work they had to get done here. And Kylo knew the Knight was hoping to prove himself again, to show he was trying to regain control. 

“Real air, real scents,” the Barabel rasped, the words slightly muffled and quiet. “Planet-side is always good.” He turned to look at Kylo directly. 

“You haven’t been planet-side in a while, Master.”

“No I have not,” Kylo agreed, watching Tomaxx as he came back. “Not since Jakku. The change of scenery is a welcomed one.” He often forgot how bland the _Finalizer_ was with its grey, black, and chrome coloring. His rooms being white was a difference in hue that left much to be desired, although he preferred the cleanliness of it.

Here there was color, here there was imperfections and dirt. Life buzzed all around Kylo, and while it was invigorating, a part of him hated it. This planet itself was famous for its gambling centers, and all of these low-lifes accepted this dingy, chaotic lifestyle, touted as ‘freedom of commerce’ by the Republic. Once the First Order took over, places like this would be wiped away, like grease from a table. 

“Any issues?” He asked the Chiss as Tomaxx approached.

“No. We’re all set. The docking permit should last for eight days.”

Kylo nodded, “We won’t need that long, but I suppose it’s better to have it.” He was determined to be back in five days, no matter what.

“Let’s lock up the ship and get started.”

* * *

It was a day of confirming key locations for the three Dark Lords. Their research was detailed and precise, but it was still important to actually _see_ and _feel_ the areas out. There was always the chance something was missed in their meticulous combing, so they were there, checking in person. 

Each of them focused on a different aspect of the buildings, the crowds, the people selling things on the streets, the children running about, the rich, the poor, tourists, and peddlers. They were especially looking for anyone who, like them, was trying to fit in to a place where they did not quite belong. 

The Resistance was here somewhere, hiding, but they would not be hidden for long, not with Tomaxx ‘gathering his thoughts,’ Cseenan keeping his nose to the air, and Kylo feeling out in the Force for anyone who felt _off,_ or _familiar._

His life surrounded by his parent’s ilk was at least good for that.

Over the span of thirteen hours they scanned five high-interest locations, picking up on possible leads for three of them. Since time was of the essence the other two were dropped so they could focus more time and efforts on the three, although Cseenan seemed hesitant about forgoing an area of nearly-dead workshops. 

There were very little people to observe or feel out there, and the things they had detected throughout the day had pointed them towards the busier, flashier areas of the city, near the gambling houses, clubs, and race tracks. 

But still, Cseenan seemed tense when Kylo suggested they drop the workshop district.

“Did you pick up on anything?” Kylo asked. They were sat at a dimly lit corner table at a grungy eatery near one of the target areas, having chosen the table for the empty cups and plates that had littered it, trying to appear as if they were there as normal patrons. 

The only abnormal thing about them was the fact that they never removed their masks to ‘eat’, but with the messy table and busy establishment, no one paid them any mind.

Cseenan’s scaly brow furrowed more, his claws scratching beneath one of the straps below his jaw.

“Not a scent, no. But _mayhaps._ It was hard to tell, what with the smell of putrid muck everywhichway.” 

That was the other reason for abandoning the area. It was easy to see why the workshops had all shuttered; it seemed that a sewage plant several blocks down had been the receiving end of a very recent drunken shuttle accident, the scorched crater in the side of the building smoking from the still-burning noxious gases, the area cordoned off as droids worked to fix it. 

The result was the air smelling like absolute _shit,_ clearing out the locality of anything respectable. The odor also ruined whatever hunger Kylo—and the others, no doubt—had managed to work up during the day. And this was after Kylo had only eaten half of breakfast.

The itch not having been scratched to his satisfaction, but unwilling to remove the leather, Cseenan huffed in frustration, fist falling to the table a little _too_ hard, rattling the tableware.

They all stiffened, but no one looked their way, the locale too busy and noisy itself to pay any attention to them. 

“If none of the other locations turn up with anything concrete, we can check back there,” Kylo told him, voice lower. “But it seemed like the city cleared the area out, so I think any rebel scum will have moved on to other places, not wanting to get in the way of city officials.”

The Barabel nodded, somewhat appeased but still frowning. 

“It makes sense. We can go back later to sniff about.” He chuffed through his nostrils, voice grumbling, “Mayhaps it will smell better later.”

“Let’s hope,” Tomaxx mumbled.

Cseenan snorted again.   
  
“Remember Luerstaf?”

Tomaxx sighed, arms crossed. 

“I try not to.”

“That was worse…”

As the two Knights reminisced about the bog planet they’d had the misfortune of ending up on one mission, Kylo kept his eyes on the room and the inhabitants, always looking, always watching.

Suddenly a loth-cat streaked through Kylo’s peripherals, running beneath tables and chairs, winding through legs, a raspy growl betraying its path. A young boy with dark hair and tanned skin ran after it, and it was the movement that must have caught Cseenan’s eye as well, his words stopping mid-sentence.

“Cseenan?” Tomaxx asked quietly, tensing. “Do you sense something?”

Cseenan’s eyes were dark as he tracked the boy’s path, and Kylo had a split-second worry that the Barabel had locked onto the kid in a bad way, his bloodlust for Girl still sitting heavy on his mind. 

But he blinked and most of the color returned as he looked back at Kylo and Tomaxx, a soberness to his features that belied his control. 

“No,” he grumbled. “Just the running.”

“You’ll be able to chase soon enough,” Kylo told him. “Once we find the Resistance.”

The Knight nodded, nails scratching the tabletop as his hands curled into fists.

They watched as the bartender owner called out, and the child stopped before he could chase the animal to where it went through a side door. 

“Petr! What are you doing, you _si'hklesi vrima_ , go back to work!” 

The boy, Petr, looked once at where the loth-cat had gone, a burgeoning want to keep following it inspiring him to take a few more steps, a protestation on his lips as he pointed.  
  
“But master, the loth!”

“Forget it! Go help Kaleema with the dishes, she always gets behind at rush!”

The boy sighed, dejected, then turned and made his way to the door by the bar. 

A slave, probably. They had seen many in their ventures during the day—silent shadows hurrying about, staying out from under foot, running various errands for their masters. Someday Girl would be doing the same for Kylo, moving about the ship to do his bidding, following him and the Knights on their journeys in order to help scout or play spy. She was small, and quiet, and female, and those things typically lent to an ability to blend in well. 

If she’d been healthy enough, she could have aided them on this trip. _Perhaps next time she would_ , Kylo thought to himself.

The three sat in silence for a while longer at the table, sensing and reading and scenting. Always on the look out, always searching. Eventually they had to get up and leave or risk looking suspicious, but Kylo made a marker with his pocket-sized holomap so there would be no losing of the location. He wouldn’t forget, but they had a system to make sure no place of interest was lost, so he added it. 

They continued to scan the streets, keeping a distance from one another, only occasionally speaking quietly into their commlinks to point out someone.

Dusk fell, and evening dipped the city into deep navy and glowing yellow as lamps were lit. The crowds changed, the young, vulnerable, and weak disappearing into homes and inns, the night opening up to the gamblers, the partiers, the seedy vagrants and street criminals. 

The temperatures finally dipped as well, allowing some respite from the humid heat of the day. Kylo was looking forward to showering later, even though the shuttle was only outfitted with a sonic shower. Still, it was better than nothing. 

With the bubbling up of the nightlife, the three Dark Lords did not have to try so hard to not be noticed—although they never let their guard down. Standing near the corner of a building and watching passersby was less likely to be alerted to a roaming constable at night like they would have during the day. Plus, Cseenan and Tomaxx both had an advantage at night, their eyesights far better than any human’s, allowing them to hide in dark spaces and alleyways for extra cover. 

They made more notes, more connections, and then, having been awake for almost twenty-four hours and with barely anything to eat within that time, Kylo commed his Knights and told them they were done for the day. He wanted to go back to the eatery to scan around more, but he needed rest and food. He’d go back tomorrow. 

Back at the shuttle the three took turns using the shower, changing into more comfortable clothes—Cseenan stretching his jaw open wide with a shake once the leather was removed—and sitting down at the small table to eat from their food stores.

At one point Kylo’s sleeve revealed the flash of silver and dull red at his wrist before he could do anything to cover it. Tomaxx noticed almost immediately, his cardinal eyes glancing up at Kylo with a question in their depths. The master merely pulled his sleeve back down, taking another bite of food with as stony a face as he could muster in answer. 

The Chiss was going to work out what the bracelet was and why Kylo had it eventually, so there really was no point in trying to keep it hidden anymore. But still, Kylo did not want to willingly validate Tomaxx (again) on how he thought Girl was a distraction. In fact, Kylo would argue that the beacons helped him to _not_ be distracted, since he knew he could rely on them to at least keep Girl findable in the event of a worst-case scenario. 

While he _had_ found her sudden lack of presence jarring once they’d jumped to hyperspeed— It was as if a warm light had been turned off, leaving him feeling cold—he’d done his best to push the discomfort aside, especially once he reconfirmed that the strange connection was still there. He thought he’d been doing a decent job of not letting the empty feeling in his chest keep him from working throughout the day, in fact, although more than once he found himself brushing his hand against his wrist, checking to make sure the bracelet was still there, occasionally sneaking glances at the dull red light that indicated a live transmitter. 

He shouldn’t let the slave affect him so much; he needed to be more stalwart. Tomorrow he wouldn’t give it even a second of thought. There was too much to get done and in too little time. If he started down that path of wariness about her health and whether she was being kidnapped again or not, he was going to end up doing something stupid, like contacting the ship when they were supposed to be on a transmission blackout.

He told the comms officers that he was only to be contacted in extreme emergencies, so he would just have to rely on that and trust that no news was good news in regards to the girl. 

After eating, the three lords quickly reconfirmed the next day’s plan, and then the two Knights filed into the bunk room to sleep while Kylo sent a quick encrypted transmission recording to the _Supremacy,_ to update Snoke. He should have spoken to the Supreme Leader in real time before leaving for Phu, but this way was better, more concise. Kylo hoped his obedience would allow Commander Culdranth’s second request to be accepted without anymore delay or conditions. 

The transmission sent, Kylo joined his Knights in the bunk room. He lay in his upper bed, exhausted but also wired, a buzzing energy beneath his skin keeping him awake. His mind circled through the day’s findings, the suspicious people, the boy, tomorrow’s plan, then back again, until eventually, finally, Kylo fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, his hand curled loosely around the metal at his wrist.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice breather chapter, before things start Happening 👁👄👁 
> 
> In other news, [I made a FAQ page,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797539) so feel free to check it out if you've got some questions! The answer might be there... 
> 
> It's December and I'm tired all the time. Is it Seasonal Affective Disorder, or depression? w h o k n o w s. But I got myself an iPad Pro as an early Christmas/birthday gift, so at least I have that 😌✨ Can't wait to draw more picturessss. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Rey's day does not go quite how she wanted it to...  
> Posting Date: Friday, December 11th at 9PM Japan time
> 
> As always, come chat!
> 
> [✨Instagram✨](https://www.instagram.com/veggieheist_art)  
> [✨Tumblr✨](https://www.veggieheist.tumblr.com)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com
> 
> **last minute edit**
> 
> here's some pics of what Kylo basically looks like, as well as the Phuii:
> 
>   
> 


	67. The Start of a Whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the pic of what Kylo kindof looks like on Phu wasn't loading for some people last chapter. I have fixed it.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter!

* * *

Rey stood in front of the closed door to the corridor, her heart pounding, her hand gripping her identichip hard enough to hurt. All she had to do was insert the chip into the slot on the control panel, and the door would open. And then she’d be able to go out into the corridor. She’d be able to leave the rooms. Alone. 

Her eyes drifted to the side where FX-8 waited.

_Well, not quite._

It was the day after Lord Ren had left, and she’d managed to scrounge up enough energy after breakfast to ask FX-8 if he would walk with her after the thirty minute post-breakfast-cup observation was over. With a second to process her question, he finally beeped a yes. 

She was feeling sleepy again now, her stomach full of nutrients and fiber, but was determined to fight it. She wanted to walk the corridor today, so she was _going to walk the corridor._

But that was going to require her to actually open the door. 

_Lord Ren gave you permission, he said it was okay. He gave you the chip so you could leave sometimes. Just, do it._

She took a fortifying breath in, and—

<Are you having difficulties opening the door? I can open it>

Rey shook her head quickly with a, “No, it’s fine, I can do it,” and quickly moved to do so. She didn’t want the droid to take this from her. She wanted to do it herself, to prove to herself it was no big deal.

She pushed the chip into the slot, and the lighted button on the panel switched from red to white. She pressed it, and the door _actually opened._

The grey corridor yawned before her, and, remembering to take the identichip back, Rey then stepped out, the droid whirring behind her as he followed.   
  
Rey looked at the length of the hall and wondered if it had become longer somehow since the last time she’d seen it. The grey walls and shiny black floor tiles seemed to elongate the longer she looked, prompting her to blink quickly and take a deep breath.

_Stop being stupid. You’ve walked this hallway before, several times now. FX-8 is here, too. Nothing bad is going to happen._

She would go for as long as she could, and take breaks. She knew the only way her legs would get stronger is if they were forced to go longer than they felt capable of. That’s how she’d always gotten stronger. 

On Jakku it was either get stronger, or die. 

This now was much less high-stakes, but she did not want to cut herself too much slack. She wanted to be able to get Lord Ren’s meals and other things, she wanted to be useful. The only way to be able to do that soon was by pushing herself to her limits.

And today that would mean walking for as long as she could take it. 

<It would be better for you to wear the blood pressure band> the droid said, the second time since agreeing to chaperone Rey. 

She shook her head again. 

“I’ll be careful.”

<Your blood pressure will not be monitored if you do not wear it.>

_Yes, that’s the point,_ Rey thought with a glower. She didn’t want to hear that alarm anymore, and she didn’t want to be made to stop too soon. She needed to push herself. 

“If I feel faint I’ll stop and rest,” she promised, and then started walking before the droid could reply again.

She went to the left, too nervous to go to the right because of what memories and bad visions it might open her up to just yet, and almost immediately stopped again, her eyes finally landing on the damaged wall panel.

Lord Ren had done that, with his fist. He’d caved in durasteel with the strength of his anger, which had meant to be directed at her. 

The sight made her shiver, and she couldn’t help imagining the damage to herself such a hit could cause. He could probably punch in her chest, or her head. He could kill her in one blow. 

_But he won’t,_ she thought, shaking her head, her hand coming up to curl a digit around the necklace. _He doesn’t want you dead. He’s tried to keep you alive, remember? He’s worked very hard to keep you alive. He hit the wall to protect you. He did this for you, because of you. If you hadn’t made him angry he wouldn’t have done it. You have to be better. For his sake, and yours._

She nodded to herself, hand dropping, and then started walking again. 

They made it down to the express lift, and then turned and came back. Once at the door again, Rey thought about continuing on down to the other end, to the T junction, but she pivoted and went back towards the lift again instead, FX-8 a quietly whirring companion at her side all the while. 

Five laps in, she was starting to become out of breath, sweat clamming up her skin, her heart pounding with effort. Not only that, but her stomach was feeling a little queasy. She slowed down, measuring her pace, but once she felt the telltale burning of bile at the back of her throat she stopped completely, breathing deeply, swallowing, finally sliding down the wall to sit.

<Are you feeling faint?>

“Only a little. Mostly just nauseous,” she panted. “I’ll just sit for a bit until it passes.”

After about five minutes of resting, her heart had slowed its painful pounding, her breathing was less gasping, and her stomach had settled. Time to get back to it.

But as she moved to get up her stomach twinged again, so she sat back with a wince. 

Might need another minute, then.

As she sat willing her stomach to be fine, to not make her throw up the nutrients that were helping her heal, she realized she could hear another sound coming from down the corridor at almost exactly the same time that movement in the corner of her eye had her head wrenching around, eyes wide and heart jolting.

There was a team of four droids of differing mechanical function filing around the far corner, heading this way. Rey wondered for a moment if she’d done something wrong and they were here to arrest her for leaving the rooms, for daring to walk the corridor, for daring to exist outside of where her master was. 

But they did not come all the way down. In fact, they seemed to stop right outside the rooms, and it wasn’t until she observed how they were inspecting the wall that she knew they were here to fix the panel. 

A relieved sigh helped settle her nerves, and Rey’s curiosity quickly took over and had her rising to her feet—albeit slowly and warily. She wanted to see how they would fix it. She had her ideas about how they could go about it, but they probably had better ways, what with their fancier equipment and tools. 

When she got close enough to really see, one of the astromechs turned to her and beeped for her to stay back for her safety. 

“I won’t get in the way,” she promised it. “I just want to watch. Is that alright?”

It processed her question for a moment and then beeped it’s consent. Rey leaned against the opposite wall, sliding down again to sit when her stomach roiled. Watching the droids work settled her more than she’d felt in a long while though. It was familiar, this type of work. There was order to it, a logic that she understood.

They removed the panel, exposing the metal bones and electrical veins of the wall. Rey could see some scratches about the metal and figured there must have been other repairs done here. And then she wondered how many other panels and walls had been needed to be repaired because of her master’s anger. The table he had destroyed her first day aboard came to mind, but what else had Lord Ren taken his lightsaber to?

And how many times had it been because she had upset him?

All at once she felt guilty for just watching the droids work. She should be helping, since it was her fault the panel needed to be replaced in the first place. 

_“Don’t apologize for things you have no control over,”_ her master had told her when she’d been sorry about his hurting fist, but she _does_ have control of it. If she made better choices, if she was more disciplined, she wouldn’t do things to trigger his rage. He said he was working on controlling his anger, but she was making it difficult for him. He wouldn’t have to work so hard if she wasn’t at fault. 

She didn’t like him taking the blame. It wasn’t his fault. It was _her_ fault. 

Once the panel was removed and placed on a dolly, the droids worked on fixing the light that had sustained some damage from the warping of the metal. The fix was easy, though, only requiring them to make small adjustments to the connectors and switch out the long bulb. It turned on immediately upon installation, and once the cover was put back on it looked good as new, with only the open space below it any indication that something had happened. 

Next the droids began to set up a temporary panel in place of the hole by way of an expandable gate. It was opened to fit into the space snugly, then bolted into place, and with the work done they cleaned up the surrounding floor of any minuscule debris, and then began to file back down the corridor with the damaged panel. 

“They’ll heat up the metal and buff out the dent,” Rey explained to FX-8, even though he hadn’t asked and probably didn’t care. “Can’t make it too hot though, or it’ll ruin the steel.”

<Metal is much easier to repair than organic matter> the droid answered back, making Rey give a humorless laugh.

“It would sure make fixing me a lot easier if I was made of tech.”

She stood slowly and looked down the corridor towards the express lift, considering trying to walk one more lap. 

Her stomach was still a bit twisted though, and she didn’t want to make a mess down the hall. She’d clean it up, but she knew Lord Ren would find out about it and she did _not_ want him to have any negative news from her end when he got back. 

So instead she pulled out her identichip and let herself and FX-8 back into the rooms. She grabbed more water and then sat, letting the droid scan her again. 

<How do you feel? Are you still nauseous?>

“Yeah, I think I’ll just sit for a while,” she said dejectedly. “Thank you for walking with me. Maybe if I’m feeling better later I might ask you again. Is that alright?”

<It should be fine. Please call if you have any worsening symptoms.>

“Thank you, I will.”

The droid beeped and then left with a final promise to bring her luncheon meal later. Rey made herself comfortable on the couch with her datapad and sipped at her water. The coolness was helping a little, which was a relief. The big danger of vomiting seemed to have passed for the most part. 

Rey decided to forgo studying or doing any mind puzzles this time, choosing to wander the parts of the holonet that were available to her, which was much, _much_ more than what she had seen on Jakku. 

There were some news bits about some things happening with the galactic government—which she paid little attention to, since the galactic government had deemed her kind not worth paying attention to either—and advertisements for this or that. She perused the new speeder editions, reading their specs and digging further into the details of their builds, saving pages for later reading because her eyes were drooping, her head lolling to the side. 

Rey sighed, lying down. Another nap was warranted, then. With the exercise she got and the food, it was really no wonder. 

She woke when FX-8 let himself into the rooms with her mid-cycle meal. Her stomach was much better now, but there was still a general discomfort in her middle that made her frown. Nevertheless, she drank the half-cup—slowly again—and chatted with FX-8 about his mechanical works while they waited for the thirty minute observation period to be up. 

<Do you still want to go walk?>

Rey sighed, shaking her head. 

“I do, but I don’t want to make myself sick. I’ll see later, after dinner.”

<Very well. Call the medbay if any issues arise.>

“Thanks, but hopefully I won’t need to.”

She managed to meditate for a little bit, still needing to hum, but less so. She added more stones to the thin wall, peering curiously at the storm on the horizon more than once. What was it? Was it anything at all, or just something else in her mind that was chaotic and temperamental that she would have to figure out how to control?

Nybian had told her more than once that all Rey needed in life was already within her: _“Your spirit will give you strength, Rey, will give you power. Whenever you feel like you have nothing, whenever you feel like you need help and no one is there, go inward. That’s where you’ll find a wellspring of energy to help you keep going.”_

Was this the wellspring of energy she spoke about? Or was this the source of the near-uncontrollable bubbling of power in Rey that only ever seemed to hurt and destroy? But then, what about the wind? Wasn’t that the Force, and wasn’t that where her powers came from?

It didn’t matter for now. Only the stones and the dune and blocking the wind mattered. That was what mattered to her master. 

Rey fell asleep sitting on the floor, and woke up with a terrible strain in her neck from her chin dipping to her chest. 

With a frustrated groan she laid back, the coldness seeping into her spine and shoulder blades as she made contact with the tile. It helped wake her up a little, but not much. She almost felt like she could fall back asleep, even spread out on the freezing hard floor like this, but she knew she should get up and walk for a bit.

Her legs felt looser and slightly shaky, but in a good way. They were probably going to be sore tomorrow, but she’d walk through the soreness. Pain meant she was getting stronger. 

But Rey was only able to walk for a couple minutes before a heaviness made itself known in her lower abdomen, followed by a feeling of pressure, and then cramping pain. She managed to get to the ‘fresher in time to be reminded that not eating solid food for weeks and then eating it again was going to cause problems in her atrophied intestines. It was awful and painful, her body sweating and shaking, but she was ultimately glad that it was happening now while Lord Ren was away. 

When she was sure the unpleasant bowel movement was over, she got up, splashed water on her face, and went back to sit gingerly on her bed, lying down to press her cold hands against her belly beneath her clothes. It was still hot, still heavy and tender. She hoped her body would get used to the watered down nutrimeal quickly because she did not want to be suffering this after her master comes back. 

After a while the unwell feeling went away—much to her relief—and she was able to do more pacing around the room. Up the stair, around her bed, down the stair, around the couch, up the stair, around the bed….

On Jakku there had been a traveling market selling foods and cloth and trinkets, but also all manner of strange creatures from far off worlds, locked in cages. One such animal had been a thing with scales and fur that shimmered like rainbow in the blaring sunlight, its muscles coiling and bunching as it paced back and forth, back and forth in its enclosure. 

Rey felt like that creature, an antsy energy beneath her skin, a vibrating need to get out, to move, to expand. She had her identichip so she knew she could go into the corridor and leave her white cage. The only thing stopping her was her master’s conditions to always have FX-8 with her.

When the droid did finally come later with her dinner cup, she mentioned her stomach issues as she slowly sipped. 

<you may experience gastrointestinal discomfort while your body acclimates> he told her. <if it persists beyond your pain threshold, we can return you to the liquid diet for a day or two.>

Well, she didn’t want _that,_ she just wanted her body to acclimate already. And if that meant pushing through the pain and discomfort of her bowels relearning how to function for the next several days, then that’s what she would do. 

“I think I’ll be fine, actually,” she told the droid. “I’ll stay on the nutrimeal.”

<Very well. Did you want to go for a walk still?>

“Yes, just for a little while.” 

Her muscles and joints were beginning to show signs of soreness, but she’d push through it. 

She’d be fine. 

* * *

Rey made it only three laps with FX-8 in the corridor before she had to call it quits and return to the rooms, her body shaking and sweating from her efforts and her churning insides. 

She didn’t want the medbay to put her back on a liquid diet so she quickly dismissed the droid and then promptly sat herself back in the ‘fresher. The pain and effects were worse this time, and lasted much longer, but again she just breathed through it and thanked the Maker she was alone. Although, as the hours wore on and she was left crippled in a ball on the floor, her midsection like acidic snakes twisting and tying into agonized knots, she began to wish that she wasn’t alone. 

It was scary how much pain she was in. It wasn’t normal. It didn’t feel right. And, she was beginning to worry that her master was feeling it too wherever he was, and that it would distract him. 

The problem now was that she wasn’t sure if she’d even be able to get up to call for the droid. Every time she moved her insides shrieked in protest, and she ended up back on the toilet for a while before moving back to the cold floor to ease her strange fever. 

A piercing pain sliced through her again though, bringing miserable tears to her eyes and a sob from her throat, and she knew she needed to call the medbay. This couldn’t go on any longer, especially if it would distract Lord Ren.

Gathering herself and taking several fortifying breaths, Rey got up from the floor and, arms wrapped around her middle, back hunched, she staggered her way to the adjacent room, falling to her knees by the wall where the control screen was. She breathed through the new pain, willing her body to just cooperate and be calm for just one more minute while she called for the droid. 

She rose unsteadily to her feet and quickly tapped through the screens the way Lord Ren had taught her, quickly pressing ‘YES’ on the final screen, and then slid back down to the floor. 

She waited there, curled up on the cold tile, hoping that the droid had pain controllers to help her, otherwise the only other thing she could think of to help was to just remove her insides entirely. What she wouldn’t give to do that now. She’d even let Lord Cseenan do it with his claws, because surely that would be less painful. 

Rey tried to absorb the pain away, like the desert, like cloth, her mind focused on her breathing, trying to find a meditative state to help her. It only seemed to work a tiny bit this time. Without her master to guide her she was useless.

When the door eventually beeped and opened, it wasn’t FX-8 who entered.

“I had a feeling you were going to end up like this,” came a dry voice from just inside the door. 

Rey jolted, looking up with wide eyes at Captain Ithowim, guilt and dread and embarrassment flooding her at the sight. She had hoped to avoid seeing him ever again, too guilt-ridden about causing him problems and afraid of him for the same reasons. What was he going to do to her now, with her master gone and her body so out of sorts? Why did he come?

“Where is FX-8?” She asked in a strained voice as she slowly tried to uncurl from her side to sit up. 

The medic stepped to her and crouched.

“It’s being serviced. Let’s get you off the floor. Can you stand?”

She nodded with a quiet, “I think so.”

He helped her up, steadying her with a grip on her arm as he shuffled her slowly to the couch. 

“What are you feeling, and where?” He asked as she sat, his professionalism surprising her for some reason. Wasn’t he going to berate her for causing so many problems in his medbay? For almost getting him _executed?_

Rey laid back down on her side, curling around her churning middle again with a wince.

“My innards are on fire, sir,” she finally gritted out. And now remembering the problems she had caused for him and so many others—Wolson was _dead because of her_ —Rey felt like she deserved this pain. She should send the captain away and just bear it.

The medic scanned her with a critical eye, then crouched. 

“Hm. Laid down flat so I can check.”

With careful breathing she did, and once stretched out she balked and flinched at his hands reaching for her neck, stopping him with a hard grip on his fingers.

He frowned. 

“I need to open your jacket.”

Rey swallowed shakily, not liking the deja vu she felt because it reminded her of Wolson, and he was dead now because of her. 

“I’ll do it myself.”

He eyed her again and then pulled back, indicating for her to do so.

She did, although her self consciousness this time was because his gaze had fallen on the metal around her throat and he was looking at it as if he was memorizing every detail. 

“That’s new,” he murmured. 

Rey didn’t say anything in reply, merely finished opening her jacket, pulling up her undershirt to her ribs and pushing down the high waist of her pants below her belly button for good measure. 

She wished she could hide the necklace, because she didn’t like the medic looking at it with such calculated judgment in his eyes.

He looked away finally, his hands coming up to press into her abdomen. 

“I never expected him to put an actual collar on you, and yet I find myself not surprised in the least. Does it hurt more here, or here?”

Rey swallowed again, breathing through the whiplash of his words. 

“It’s not a collar,” she rasped weakly. “It’s a necklace. And it’s to keep me safe.”

“Where does it hurt more?” He repeated. 

“Everywhere, sir. My intestines are all wrong.”

He sighed, sitting back on his heels, hands dropping away.

“I saw they started you on the nutrimeal slurry but neglected to administer the probiotics I recommended.” He looked at her. “Your gut flora need to be revitalized in order for your G.I. track to work properly. Otherwise all of this new fiber is just going to tear through you, and you’re probably going to lose nutrients and water in the process.”

Rey felt like her newfound health was now slipping away between her fingers, like sand, and it made her heart drop. 

“How do I fix it?” She asked. 

The captain dug around in his side pouch, pulling out a small canister that rattled. 

“Probiotics.” 

He popped open the cap and shook out a capsule into his palm, offering it to her. She took it and he stood.

“Do you have a cup?”

Rey sat up with a wince, motioning to the bedroom.

“In the ‘fresher.”

The medic went and disappeared around the corner, making Rey slightly nervous. Lord Ren didn’t like other people in his room. What if he got mad at her?

But Captain Ithowim was only gone for ten seconds, just enough time to grab her cup of water and come back, handing it to her, then set the canister down on the arm of the couch.

“Take one before every meal until the capsules run out. There should be enough for a week. It will help fortify your body’s digestive system, and should help reduce the painful diarrhea as early as tomorrow, although you’ll still need to continue to take the capsules in order to fully cement the new gut flora in place. Do you understand?”

“Yessir,” Rey said, taking the capsule and swallowing it down with a mouthful of water. 

He nodded, then looked in his pouch again, coming out with another small bottle from which another tablet was shaken out. He eyed her with a scanning look, his fist closing around the pill.

“Does he let you take pain controllers?”

Rey nodded, “Yessir.”

“Another surprise,” he muttered, then handed her the second capsule. “Take this for the pain."  
  
She wasted no time in swallowing it down as well, so grateful for something that would help reduce her suffering, and relieved that she wasn’t going to have to go back on the liquid diet. She wanted to keep moving forward, not backward. 

“Thank you, sir,” she rasped.

“It’s my job,” he told her with a grumble. “It’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

Rey looked up, his expression one of resigned dourness, and she felt guilt wrack her body once again. 

“I’m sorry for what happened,” she said, voice breaking with the weight of her self-reproach. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

“Of course you didn’t,” the captain huffed. “The whole mess was Wolson and his trooper friend’s fault.” He crossed his arms. “You were either drugged up or sick or both, so I can’t imagine you had anything to do with what Wolson and his _companion_ had planned, no matter what the rumor mill says.”

Rey shook her head vehemently. 

“I didn’t help them plan, I swear.”

It was the truth; she didn’t help them plan. She only somewhat helped them by not alerting anyone of their desertion when she should have. 

“I suppose your master is less than convinced still, though, if he’s got a tracking collar on you.”

Rey’s hand went to her throat, her fingers curling around the metal, her heart seizing slightly at the word _collar._

“He trusts me. He just doesn’t trust everyone else.”

The captain gave a contemplative hum. 

“Hm. That’s fair, what with everything that happened. Do you have any other symptoms or problems? Any vomiting or issues with your heart?”

Rey blinked at the change of subject, but redirected her thoughts to answer him. 

“It’s still difficult for me to walk for more than fifteen minutes, but I don’t feel like fainting nearly as much as I did before.”

He pulled out a small datapad and typed on it. 

“Well, before you could hardly walk for two minutes before needing to sit, so I think you’re making good recovery. Any pain in your chest?”

Rey pressed her hand against her collarbones, the cold metal of the necklace heating on her skin.

“A little. But not as bad as before.”

“Hm. Your bloodwork shows you’re almost out of the anemia risk zone. Once your blood is back to good levels your heart should start to feel stronger too. Don’t overwork it though, or you’ll end back up in the medbay and I think that we’d all rather that didn’t happen.”

“No, sir,” Rey mumbled. 

“Is there anything else?”

She meant to shake her head _no,_ but words pushed up out of Rey’s chest, from the murky depths of her guilt, from somewhere she’s been trying to avoid, somewhere she’s been hiding from:

“I’m sorry Sergeant Wolson is dead.”

The captain sighed, looking at her with a furrowed brow, then looked down to put the datapad away.

“He was a good medic,” the man said quietly, “but he chose to break from the Order and so he chose to risk death for whatever it was he thought was worth dying for.” Captain Ithowim fixed her with a stern look. “He _chose_ to die. You had nothing to do with his decisions, so you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Rey shook her head, an image filled her mind of the young medic’s body smoking from the deep gash in his chest, eyes wide and unseeing. How could he _choose_ that?

“But I, I held him back, I kept him from going,” Rey protested. “He would have been able to leave, he would have _lived.”_

Whatever relationship he’d had with the soldier, whatever potential, was gone now. It made her chest constrict at the thought. FN-2187 must be horribly sad now. And probably horribly angry at her. 

“Then as far as I’m aware,” the captain said, “you did us a service and you should be commended.”

The words made Rey blink.

“But…wasn’t he your friend?”

The next look he gave her was dry, and it made her feel silly for even asking. 

“Wolson was a fellow corpsman and subordinate. We worked well together but we weren’t _friends.”_

Rey looked down. 

“Oh.” Her voice reduced, weak and full of recrimination. “I’m still sorry.”  
  
The medic sighed again. 

“Still a broken little thing, aren’t you? Taking responsibility for Ren’s violence and anger.” 

Rey balked, and he stepped closer, giving her pointedly severe look. 

“You can’t control the decisions other people make, Girl, nor can you control the consequences of those decisions. If someone decides to be violent when they should be calm, if someone decides to break the law when they should be following it, you cannot change that. In the end we are only responsible for how we ourselves act, for what we ourselves do. When you try to say you are at fault for not having stopped them, you take away other people’s agency. You think you’re helping them by taking on responsibility, because it’s easier for you to convince yourself you have control over it than accept that you don’t have control over other people at all. But it’s insulting and patronizing to do such a thing, to say ‘you have no control over yourself. Only I control you.’ Don’t give them excuses, Girl. They’re both grown men with minds of their own. Stop letting yourself think otherwise.”

Rey let out a shaky breath, feeling as if she was more exposed than just an open jacket. She felt flayed, laid bare. 

He continued,

“This is what it means to be sentient: taking responsibility for one’s own actions. Your master still acts like a child throwing tantrums, and you should not encourage that by giving him a way to avoid blame. I know you’re a slave, and it’s been beaten into you to just accept that everything is your fault. But here in this Order, on this ship, each of us is the one in control of our own deeds. Stop insulting us by alluding otherwise.”

The air felt stifling all of a sudden as Rey sat, swallowing to whet her dry throat, her mind whirling and shrieking with denial, with arguments, with ways to say _‘no, you’re wrong, it’s my fault, I deserve blame, I deserve to take on the consequences,’_ but the idea that such a thing was _insulting_ to others, to _Lord Ren especially,_ made her feel such cognitive distress that she found her mind quickly going blank with white static. 

She’d always taken blame for things. It was easier. But now, hearing Captain Ithowim say what he did, that she was just looking for control where she had none, it made sense. She didn’t like it, she didn’t want to believe it, but she knew it was true. 

And the other truth, that she actually had no control at all, _terrified_ her. 

How was she to survive, if she didn’t think she could influence those around her with her behavior? All her life she made herself smaller, quieter, faster, meeker, more agreeable, less of a burden, and so much more, in order to gain the favor and good graces of her masters and betters. She needed to feel like it made a difference, because otherwise what did she have?

Nothing. 

No control. No way to stop the beatings, no way to stop the abuse.

Rey was shaking, her vision blurring.

“That’s not true,” she rasped. “What I do affects how my master treats me. If I make a mistake, I deserve to be punished, I deserve the pain. I know what makes him mad now. I—I can act better. If I stop being so bad, he won’t get angry, he won’t—“

“So you’ve never had a master who didn’t beat you for your mistakes?”

Rey sat, thinking of Nybian, of her patience and kindness and endless understanding. Not ever raising a hand to the girl, not even when Rey spilled water or broke something or had nightmares.

But Nybian had been the outlier. Special. A glitch in the system like Rey, except she was all things good in the galaxy instead of all things broken.

“I…I did, but…she was _not_ normal.”

“Do you think if you were _my_ slave that I would hit you for making mistakes?”

It felt like a trick question, and Rey was scared to answer it. The captain had been curt and somewhat cold with his medical care of her, but not cruel. He did not seem to get pleasure from causing her discomfort or pain. He just didn’t overtly try to prevent it as much as Wolson had.

“I don’t know, sir,” she quietly said, fidgeting.

The doctor’s eyes rolled heavenwards. 

“I don’t know why I’m even trying,” he grumbled. “You’re far too conditioned.”

But apparently not conditioned enough. Not in the right way, according to Lord Tomaxx. 

“If I’m not responsible for how my masters treat me,” she whispered, a daring question, a forbidden query, “then what do I do? Why do these things always happen to me?”

He looked at her with a wrinkled brow.

“Because sentient beings make bad decisions sometimes, and sometimes it doesn’t make any sense, and there is no reason. Or, in the case of Lord Ren, they’re so corrupted by their own faults and ghosts that it’s the easiest choice to hurt and destroy things. You just have to accept that, Girl. Sometimes when a man throws his whole life away, when a man decides to lash out in anger, there is no good reason that we will ever be able to understand. You won’t be able to change that, you can’t control it, because it’s _their decision to do those things_ , just as it was the decision by your old master to _not_ beat you. You just focus on what you can control,” he stepped closer, a finger pointing at her chest. “Your own thoughts and actions. Understand?”

Rey gave a shaky nod, and wiped at her wet eyes. 

“Good,” he said with a nod. “No more taking on blame for the actions of grown men. I’ll update the day-cycle on the fact you’re having digestion issues but are now taking probiotics. If the capsules run out and you start to feel discomfort again, let FX-8 know and it will supply you with more.”

Again, the sudden change in subject made Rey’s head spin as she struggled to catch up, her emotions so raw and her mind so mixed up. 

She managed to find her voice to say, “Yessir,” and began to close up her jacket. She pulled the necklace up before fastening the collar, still not used to the cold metal against her skin.

The captain focused on it again, and Rey brushed her fingertips against the grooves of the sensor.

“Please don’t tell people about this, sir,” she quietly pleaded.

He eyed her for a moment, then intoned dryly,

“I’m quite through with the rumor mill on this ship. And I’d rather like to avoid having Lord Ren threaten to kill me again, because he’ll probably actually do it next time. So, should the existence of your _necklace_ make its way around, I can assure you, it won’t be from me.”

Rey nodded, relieved to Feel that he was being truthful. 

“Thank you, sir.”

He gave a curt nod back, then turned and headed to the door. 

“If you need anything, call. I’m on the night-cycle shift now but I keep an eye on your file.”  
  
“I will, thank you, sir.”

With a parting look that seemed disbelieving of her promise, the man pressed open the door and left, disappearing into the grey corridor.   
  
Rey sat, staring down at her hands in her lap, barely noticing that her stomach was feeling much better already, because of the words still circling on repeat in her mind. 

_“Don’t apologize for things you can’t control.”_

_“It’s easier to accept blame than to accept you have no control over anyone’s actions at all.”_

_“It’s my fault. I keep doing things to make you mad.”_

_“I shouldn’t have pushed you, I shouldn’t have threatened you like that.”_

_“So you’ve never had a master who didn’t beat you?”_

_“Do you think you deserve this?”_

“Yes,” Rey whispered aloud, years of conditioning answering for her, because if she didn’t deserve it then why was she hurt so much? That there was possibly no reason made her feel close to another panic attack, so she shut out the captain’s words, putting them in a place in her mind where she wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. 

Because if she thought about it too much, she was going to start questioning a lot of things, and that only ever brought her more misery and pain. 

_“Do you think you deserve this?”_

_Yes,_ she thought in her head, but in her heart there began a whisper that wished she didn’t.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys ever written a fanfiction and then accidentally forced yourself to confront some really harmful thought habits you have? Because boy howdy this chapter came out of nowhere swinging, and punched me right in the face.  
> Why do I pay for therapy when apparently I can just have imaginary conversations with myself as different characters and fix myself that way.  
> And not to toot my own horn, but this chapter ending gives me chills every time I read it. It's such a powerful baby step for Rey 🙌✨🌟
> 
> Originally my goal with the Week Away™️ was to have both their POVs written in the same chapter to get through each day a bit more “speedily”, but I really want this by itself. It deserves some air and thought. 
> 
> Do you find yourselves often feeling responsible for other people’s actions and feelings? Caring about other people is a wonderful trait, but you have to be careful not to do so to your own detriment.
> 
> To lighten the mood, I recommend checking out my Instagram. I made a couple funny comics about Chains, and also drew the most ridiculous picture of Santa Kylo that is probably going to be used against me in court someday.  
> Also, I'm super excited about the iPad Pro I ordered coming next Monday 🤩🤩🤩 It's an early Christmas/Birthday gift to myself and I'm gonna draw SO MUCH over the holidays.
> 
> Next Chapter: Kylo and Co. inch closer to finding the Resistance on Phu  
> Posting Date: Saturday, December 19th at 9PM Japan time (Almost back to Sundays!! 🤩)
> 
> There is now an official Chains playlist on Spotify. Search "Official 'Chains' Playlist" and lemme know if you can find it. I'll add songs onto it as the story progresses and different music is needed for The Mood 👁👄👁 Right now it's angsty as fuck still 😂
> 
> I MADE A TWITTER: @veggieheist  
> [✨Instagram✨](https://www.instagram.com/veggieheist_art)  
> [✨Tumblr✨](https://www.veggieheist.tumblr.com)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com


	68. Intuitive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mind pillaging.

* * *

Kylo walked through the crowded throng of a market alley, the sun beating down on his hooded head, his hidden eyes scanning the faces of everyone he passed. It was a bit after midday, and he was heading towards the eatery to rendezvous with his Knights. Each of them had spent the morning trailing persons of interest, listening in and following scents. Cseenan and Tomaxx had started off together, but informed Kylo a bit later of their splitting up to follow two different leads. 

Kylo was concerned about Cseenan being alone, but he reminded himself that the Barabel had done missions like this many times. The misstep on Jakku was not the norm, and Cseenan was trying to get back on track. Kylo could sense his want to prove himself, and so he tried to keep his doubts hidden lest the Knight picked up on them and lost confidence in himself.

Kylo wouldn’t be a source of deconstructive critique anymore. He would not be the reason Cseenan stopped believing he could be better. 

Tomaxx was already at the busy eatery when Kylo arrived, sitting once again in the corner table, cleared now except for a cup of something in the Knight’s loose grasp.

“Master,” he greeted quietly when Kylo sat down. “Any leads?”

Kylo itched to wipe the sweat from his face beneath his mask, but did not want to show his face for even a second here. Not when someone might recognize him.

“There was the merchant woman, the one with the glass baubles,” he replied. “I still get a feeling that some of her deliveries and sales are coded messages.”

“Should we intercept her and search her mind?” The Chiss asked.

“Probably. We’ll wait til dusk. Did you and Cseenan find anything?”

“I heard some whispers, but couldn’t find the source. I’ll go back to the area later and continue to listen.”

Kylo nodded. 

“Good. They think they’re safe here, so they’re being sloppy. It gives us an advantage but we mustn’t become complacent either.”

“I agree.”

They lapsed into quiet for a few moments, observing the hum of chatter around them. The restaurant was busy but not as rowdy as last night. There was less drinking, less partying during the heat of the day. The humidity dampened things in more than one way.

It wasn’t long before Tomaxx spoke.

“I know you told us briefly about the contents of the high command meeting, that the investigation was concluded, but are you still worried that there may be more detractors on board?”

Kylo shifted in his seat, sitting back, arms crossed. 

“The idea has crossed my mind.”

Tomaxx nodded ponderously. 

“Is that why you have the binary beacon? I assume the other bracelet is on Girl.”

Kylo cleared his throat, wishing he had something to drink. They were inside but it was still hot.

“Hers isn’t a bracelet.”

Tomaxx sat in silence for a moment, his thoughts a calculating murmur, and then the air suddenly chilled slightly. Although he seemed to try to appear unfazed, his voice was quiet when he asked,

“You put a collar on her?”

Kylo looked at his Knight, somewhat surprised at the reaction. 

“It’s a necklace, not a collar,” he said, voice hard. “She’s not a pet.”

“You’re right, she’s a slave,” Tomaxx said back. “And anything you put around her neck is going to be a collar, no matter if it’s a piece of metal or a piece of string. It’s the context, Master.”

“It’s _not a collar_ ,” Kylo repeated, growing irate. “It’s there to keep her safe so that in the off-chance that someone else decides to try and do away with her, I can find her. It’s coming off when I get back.” He eyed his Knight, brow furrowed, wishing he could see the Chiss’s face.

“Why is it a problem to you?”

Tomaxx was tense, looking down at the table, and Kylo thought for a moment he wouldn’t reply. When he did, his voice was quietly controlled, if a little strained.

“I’ve never particularly taken to the idea of collars on slaves, Master, in any form. But as she is yours, and you seem insistent that it’s not, I will concede and not bring it up again.” 

Which meant he didn’t want Kylo bring it up anymore either, but Kylo’s eyes narrowed behind his mask as he looked at the Chiss. He was not ready to drop it.

“You don’t like collars on slaves, but you complain about Girl not being properly trained,” he mused.

“They are not mutually exclusive things, Master,” the Knight argued in a lower voice. “A slave does not need a collar to know they are a servant. A master does not need to see such a thing to know they are in charge. Only one that has no confidence in their authority would see fit to use one. That is my opinion on the matter, but as I am merely your humble apprentice it means nothing, and I will not bring it up again.”

Kylo blinked, the furrow in his brow deepening. 

“Tomaxx, your opinions _do_ mean something to me. I swear the necklace is not meant to show ownership, I do not need her to wear it for my ego. As I said, it’s coming off when I get back. I told her she could wear it beneath her clothes, so no one is going to see it. It’s meant to keep her safe.”

The Knight sat silently, not reacting, just breathing and looking down at the drink in his grasp. Kylo leaned towards him, arms uncrossing.

“It was either the necklace or a chip, and I think we both know that a chip is far too dangerous.”

Tomaxx gave a hard exhale.

“The likelihood of anyone trying to steal her away again is next to nothing, Kylo. But I suppose if the beacons help to keep you from getting distracted by your paranoia, they are a good investment.”

“A good investment like the salve you gave her?” Kylo shot back.

The Knight looked at him sharply. 

“Yes. I knew if she got sick from those wounds you would be distracted here.”

Kylo swallowed, his skin prickling. Did Tomaxx know? Had he somehow found out that Girl and he could sense each other’s pain?

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to mask his unease with gruffness.

Tomaxx looked back down at the table.

“If she had shown an ounce of infection before leaving, it would have consumed your thoughts. I don’t mean to offend, Master, but based on how you were when she was in the medbay, what other conclusions could I make?”

Kylo gave a shallow exhale in relief. He didn’t know. 

“Did I overstep again?” The Knight murmured. “Should I have left her with just the normal bacta?”

The master sat back, fingers tapping a rhythm on the table as he thought. 

“I appreciate that you did not want me to be distracted, but I’d rather you confer with me beforehand about things in regards to her.”

Tomaxx gave a demure dip of his head. 

“I will do so from now on.”

Kylo nodded, and they fell into quietude again. He was annoyed that the Chiss was once again taking things into his own hands where Girl was concerned, and yet Kylo was also finding himself ever more curious. He wondered once again about Tomaxx’s past slave ownership, and the things he knew about it.

Perhaps there was something there, some answer, that could explain why Girl was able to sense him. Was it a slave thing? Would Tomaxx have an idea? But how could Kylo phrase it without giving away the depth of the strange connection?

He cleared his throat again, eyeing the untouched drink in his apprentice’s hand.

“Concerning slave things,” he began with a murmur, “there is something I am troubled with. And as you seem to have some experience in this area, I am wondering if you might be able to give me some perspective.”

The Knight stilled nearly imperceptibly in his seat.

“And what would that be?”

Kylo took in a breath, looked around the vicinity to check for eavesdroppers, and lowered his voice further.

“There have been instances where Girl seems to be far more _intuitive_ than she should.”

The tension in Tomaxx’s body loosened somewhat as he thought, his hand swirling the cup lazily, some drops spilling over the side.

“How so?”

Kylo looked away briefly, frowning. 

“She just…seems to sense more than someone so untrained should. I’m wondering if it’s something to do with her being a slave, somehow.”

The Chiss was silent again, thinking for a moment.

“Some people are born with an innate ability to read others,” he quietly pondered. “Empaths, capable of deciphering micro-expressions in face and body language.”

“Like you?” Kylo asked.

Tomaxx gave another dip of his head in agreement, continuing, 

“Slaves do it by a matter of course. It is beaten into them; they must learn to read their masters, or they suffer the consequences of making erroneous decisions. They must decipher their master’s moods, and be able to know: whether they should be present, or be like a shadow? Speak, or be silent? That Girl is _intuitive_ as you put it only means she is learning to read you the way she has been taught to survive. And I am sure that her Force powers have been used to help her in that as well. In fact,” he took in a breath, let it out slowly, his countenance becoming almost begrudging, as if he didn’t want to say anything.

“In fact what?” Kylo asked, rapt, and yet almost not wanting to know.

Tomaxx continued, though, placing the cup back down.

“In fact, I think that the strange feeling you have around her is just a subconscious survival tactic on her part. I think she unknowingly uses the Force to wheedle into her master’s minds, putting herself into their good graces and learning how to manipulate them. I think with your walls you have been resisting it automatically, but it might be so subtle on her part—and with the strength of your walls, she’s probably been unconsciously trying even harder—that you haven’t noticed her getting through on occasion.” He took in another breath. “That is the only way I can think of to explain the _intuition,_ what I think is ‘the cliff’, that you feel around her.” 

Kylo felt like the floor just shifted beneath him, or that he’d just missed a stair and was in a short free fall.

“You think she’s using the Force to _manipulate_ me?”

Tomaxx shook his head. 

“Not in the way of Influence, no. She’s using the Force to glean information, about your moods, most likely. Then from that information she decides how to act, what to say, in order to avoid making you angry.”

“Well she’s not very good at it, in that case,” grumbled Kylo, then sighed. “Although, my moods were hardly controlled by myself. She never stood a chance if she was trying to influence them.”

The Chiss thought for another breath, then his head tilted.

“Maybe that’s why she got so sick, so quickly. She was burning herself out on the subconscious level trying to read you.”

Kylo shook his head. 

“But you and I and Cseenan use our powers far more frequently, and with greater effect, and we are not worse for wear. Not like she has been.”

“That’s true. Although, she is untrained,” countered the Knight. “Perhaps with some direction she would not tire herself out so.”

“Even when you two were untrained you did not weaken like she has,” Kylo argued back. “And if what you say is true, she’s been doing this her whole life without almost dying. I don’t think that’s it.”

He did not want to talk about training Girl, or giving her direction in the Force. If Tomaxx was right and she was using her powers on the subconscious level to try and read Kylo, then it was all the more reason to cut her off. 

“Well, in any case,” the Knight sighed, “if you are concerned about her being too _intuitive,_ then the best way to get her to stop is probably to train her how to keep herself from doing it.”

Kylo remained silent, realizing he still hadn’t told his Knights what Snoke had commanded him to do. For some reason the idea of telling them filled him with shame. It was no small thing—in fact it was despicable, even for him. 

“Once she can control herself she’ll be able to stop,” Tomaxx added. “And then you can feel more secure.”

“Hm,” grumbled Kylo. “We’ll see.”

There was another lapse into silence that he was grateful for this time, not wanting to continue on that particular conversation vein, before Kylo gruffly exclaimed,

“Where the _kriff_ is Cseenan?”

Almost immediately his comm beeped, and he exchanged a quick glance with Tomaxx before answering. 

“Report.”

_“I’m on my way, going some short-ways now,_ ” came the muffled, raspy reply from the Barabel. “ _I got caught in a fucking prayer circle. If one more person stops me for a blessings, I’m going to rip their innards out from their throat. I fucking **hate** this disguise.”_

“Understood,” Kylo replied. “We’ll wait for you to arrive.”

“ _Five minutes_ ,” the Knight promised, and then the line cut off.

Kylo lowered the comm, and looked over at Tomaxx. He managed to keep himself steady for a breath, then coughed to cover up his laugh.

The Chiss was able to hold himself still far better than Kylo, letting out a long sigh, shaking his head, but even that may as well have been raucous laughter coming from the usually stony Knight.

“A fucking prayer circle,” Kylo said, and this time he couldn’t hold back his breathy sniggers, thankful they were muffled by his mask and by the murmur of customer noise around them. 

They had gotten under control by the time the Knight arrived in a sweep of dusty blue and barely concealed fury, but only just. 

“How was prayer?” Tomaxx asked innocently as Cseenan sat down. The Barbel gave him the most seething glare.  
  
“I’ll fucking kill you, Blue. It’s no joking thing.”

“Yes, Tomaxx,” Kylo said, fighting to keep his smile and contained laughter from his voice. “We mustn’t tease him. It’s a bad _habit.”_

“Ah, of course,” murmured the Chiss. “How rude of me.” He put his hands together and looked at the other Knight. “Forgive me, Cseenan.”

The Barabel caught onto the snickers and pointed a sharp claw at Tomaxx, then Kylo, eyes gleaming with wrath.

“You and you! When we get back to the ship and I get this stupid thing off—“

A server appeared at the table, and he cut off his words with a subtonal growl, looking down and quickly blinking away the darkness in his eyes. 

The server barely glanced at him, as if it was normal to witness a silent monk angrily telling off his companions. 

“Are you folks gonna actually order somethin’ today or do you want me to get some dirty dishes for you to sit around?”

The three males tensed, the air chilling around them.

The server flapped her hand in the air with a bored expression.

“Listen, whatever, I don’t care if you sit here n’ get outta the heat. But buy somethin’. Tables aren’t free. So what’ll it be?”

Kylo looked at his Knights, and they at him, a question in the air. He didn’t like how this woman had noticed them and he wanted to get up and leave, never to return here. They were supposed to be inconspicuous. 

But this location was convenient, and Kylo did not want to go back out into the heavy heat, so he looked back at the server.

“Water.”

“M’kay. For all of you?”

“Yes.”

“And for food?”

The look she gave him seemed to say that they had better order something, so Kylo pushed down his rising annoyance and asked for whatever was cheapest. 

She clicked her tongue but added the orders to her small datapad, turning away without another word. 

Once he was sure there was no one else about to approach their table, Kylo turned to Cseenan. 

“Aside from disciples, did you find anything?”

The Barabel gave him a withering look but shook his head. 

“No. I thought it was a trail, but it went cold-ways.”

“I heard some whispers around the grand casino,” Tomaxx said. “We can go back together and do a scan.”

The other Knight nodded, then looked to Kylo.

“And Master?”

“You two go, I want to scan around here for a bit longer. The glassmaker down the street is suspect.”

“We’ll help check her later,” Tomaxx promised lowly.

“I’ll find out when she closes shop,” Kylo added. “We’ll grab her after.”

The Knights nodded with a quiet, “Yes, Master,” and then they continued to converse in low tones about other suspects, things they noticed, strategies for rooting out the rebels. 

They went silent when the server returned with the waters and a bowl of something that was moving. She set extra plates and tableware down with an amused look around at the unmoving men. 

“Here ya go. Enjoy,” she said, and then left again. 

Kylo looked at the gloppy dish, his stomach turning into lead as the brackish “food” bubbled and undulated. Even Cseenan looked perturbed, his hawkish eyes focused on the movement but without any gleaming want.

Tomaxx motioned at it as if to say, ‘have at it,’ but Cseenan shook his head, sitting back. 

“Not even for me.”

They watched it for a minute with morbid, disgusted fascination, and then Kylo took up a fork and stabbed where he was sure the body was. It made a small squeaking shriek, trembling and squirming in the muck, and then slowly stilled, only twitching every now and then, the fork left stuck upright within it. 

Their low conversation returned soon after, although the unease in Kylo’s gut did not go away. He wasn’t sure what it was from and couldn’t help scanning the restaurant, looking for anything that might be triggering it. Eventually the feeling was making him so tense that the Knights noticed.

“Master, you are sensing something?” Cseenan asked, his eyes glancing about the room, mouth opening slightly to scent the air. 

It wasn’t like Kylo’s normal senses though. He usually felt those in his mind or his chest. This now in his gut was strange. 

He shook his head.

“No, I think I’m just anxious to get back out there,” he grumbled. “Time is of the essence.”

Both Knights nodded, returning to the business at hand.

“We should get going then,” Tomaxx said. Cseenan nodded and they all got up, Kylo digging into the small pack strapped to his side beneath his clothes for the credits needed to pay, leaving them on the table before moving for the door. 

They split up once back outside in the heat and crowds, the sun beating down on the streets. Kylo headed next door, towards a building he’d scoped out, finding the tower near the street and its open windows to be great for keeping an eye on things below. It was some sort of place of worship, although he didn’t recognize the gods or symbolisms about. He just needed to use the tower, and no one paid him any attention once inside, their focus on their prayer. 

Once ascended, he sat in the shadow of the window overseeing two streets that intersected, plus an alley out the back of the restaurant. He scanned around but kept his sights mostly on the corner, where the glassmaker woman had set up her wares.   
  
And then he waited, and he watched.

* * *

It was into the late afternoon, early evening when Kylo’s sights were drawn to the alley by the restaurant. 

The young slave boy, Petr, was chasing the loth cat again, the animal hopping over garbage and random broken kitchen parts, pressing itself into the corner of the dead-end.   
  
The boy crept slowly towards it, hands up in a placating gesture, voice making cooing noises even as the loth hissed and growled at him. He was close enough to try and reach out to it, seeming to pet it, and all too quickly Kylo knew what was going to happen. The loth gave a toothy snarl, and then swiped out at the boy with its claws, bolting from its place and streaking by with ears flat back and hair on end.

Petr made a cry of pain, flinching back, holding his arm, tripping over a wooden crate and crashing into a nearby stack of the same.

A woman appeared from the side door, rubbing her hands on a towel. 

“What’s the racket?”

The boy sheepishly got up and showed her his arm, now sporting several long bleeding cuts. 

The woman made a noise of exasperation, moving to smack the boy lightly on the head with her towel.

“Ahch, little idiot, I told you to be patient. Come, let’s clean it before master sees.”

“But the loth’s hurt, Kaleema. It needs help.”

“I know, sweet, but all it can do is swipe and slash. Just leave it alone. It will heal by itself—“

They disappeared back inside, the conversation cutting off, and Kylo returned his sights to the street, noticing with keen interest that the shops were beginning to close up. 

He commed his Knights to update them, and then made his way back down the tower to congregate amongst the throng on the pavement outside, slowly milling about the people and wares, looking as if he was going to buy but always keeping an eye on the woman. 

She was not so hard to miss though, her dark blue and purple dress belted with a string of glittering glass beads, her neck adorned with the same. She was an older woman, with greying light brown hair and deep lines on her face from the sun and from laughing, seemingly friends with her shop neighbors and regulars. She was jovial, and delighted to show children the rainbow colors that projected from the glass bracelets and kaleidoscopes when they hit the bright sunlight. 

But it was the silent exchanges she made with some of the patrons, slips of hand and quiet exchanges, that drew Kylo’s suspicion. She was a middleman for something, and he had a feeling it was Resistance messages. 

They would find out soon enough. 

The sun was streaking blinding orange over the tops of the mountains and the buildings as she finished locking up her wares and shouldered her side bag. The street was a murky, humid purple in the shadows where he stood watching her leave, waiting until she was a block down before beginning his slow pursuit.

It required a lot of patience to chase a mark without being detected. You couldn’t rush the target too quickly, or seem out of place, or they would be tipped off and run—or worse, call a constable. Kylo and the Knights had a system down now for it, a way of subtly corralling their intended victim to a more private area, to lessen the risk of being caught during their work. 

Eventually Kylo could see Tomaxx ahead, and knew Cseenan was around further down somewhere. Tomaxx would begin to send her whispers of ideas, _turn here, find a less populated route, it’s safe_. Sometimes the target’s mind was stronger than the tiny Influences, but more often than not they unwittingly complied. 

Kylo saw the woman hesitate after a block or so of the inconspicuous mental nudging, looking around as if she heard something, then continued on for a few steps, then stopped again. She looked down an alley, darkly shadowed now from the waning light, and then she turned and began to go to it.

And so the trap was set. 

Tomaxx went up a block to enter the alleyways from the side while Kylo pursued the same route as the woman. Cseenan would come from the opposite direction, and they would intersect her, cutting off escape routes. 

Kylo picked up his pace once in the alleyway, keeping his feet silent by cushioning his steps with the Force. He was getting close enough to hear how her trinkets made a soft tinkling sound as she walked. 

Up ahead Kylo could see Cseenan crouching against the wall, head bowed and hands out in supplication, a monk living only off the generosity and alms of strangers. 

Kylo had witnessed the woman sneaking little treats to the street urchins who slunk around like strays, a sad, almost wistful look on her face, and determined she was the bleeding heart type. He had relayed it to his Knights earlier, and knew they would adjust the plan accordingly. If she walked past Cseenan without stopping, Kylo would be surprised. 

And true to his gut feeling, the woman took the bait, halting as she went to pass the Barabel, digging in her skirts for a hidden pouch from which she pulled out what appeared to be casino chips.

“I know it’s not much, Silent One, but maybe you can exchange these for some credits.“

She bent to drop them into his hands, and quick as a flash he grabbed her arm. She jerked back, trying to break free.

“Um, Please let me go, _ow,_ you’re hurting me.”

When Tomaxx appeared down the way she called out for him.

“Hey! He won’t let go, please help me—“

Kylo walked up and her head whipped around, her weathered face losing color as her cries fell on their deaf ears, and she realized they were not there to help her. 

She tried to hit and kick out at Cseenan, pulling away in spite of his claws, his grip unbreakable as he stood with a deep growl. 

“Please, I, I don’t have much money, you can have my beads,” she grasped with her free hand at the ones around her neck, “You can sell them, I won’t call the authorities, please, please, I prom—“

Kylo froze her as he approached, cutting off her speech. Her eyes widened in unadulterated terror, a trembling quality to her as she tried and failed to fight the hold. Cseenan released her arm and stepped away, his eyes black.

Kylo leaned closer to the woman, “What do you know about the Resistance?” He asked without preamble, his voice hard.

She was only able to shake her head with a shaky, “I don’t know anything,” before she was frozen completely again.  
  
Tomaxx wordlessly stepped up, his gloved hand coming up to hover by her face as he mentally pushed into her mind. She made a pained noise, her eyes squeezing shut, breathing fast, whimpering. 

Kylo turned away to keep an eye on the way he came, making sure that no one would come upon them. It would complicate things for them to get caught. He would deal with it, but they still had a couple more days left to scour the city, and he did not want to have to do so while also trying to avoid the authorities. 

The woman made another pained cry through gritted teeth, and Kylo turned back to see tears dripping down her cheeks. 

And suddenly he couldn’t help to imagine Girl under the same treatment, the Chiss going into her mind to look for answers she didn’t know she had. If she’d been awake at that time, she probably would have just told him what had happened in the corridor. 

If Kylo had been better he would have told the Knight, and then she wouldn’t have had to suffer the mental probe at all. 

His hand crossed to wrap around the bracelet on his wrist, and he pushed down all feelings of discomfort. No thinking of the slave. Only the job at hand was important.

It wasn’t long before Tomaxx dropped his hand and stepped away, a great tension releasing from the woman as he pulled from her mind as well, causing her to silently gasp and sob.

“Anything?” Kylo asked.

Tomaxx shook his head.   
  
“She’s not with the Resistance. But she does sell Spice on the side.”

“Of course she does,” growled Kylo, his frustration rising. A dead lead. Hopefully the leads Tomaxx and Cseenan had been following earlier would turn into something they could work with. 

The Barabel Knight was reaching up for the straps of his muzzle, a dark gleam in his eyes.

“Do I eat now?”

The woman cried harder and Kylo rolled his eyes with a sigh. 

“No,” he grumbled, halting Cseenan’s movements. “She’s too prominent a figure here. Too many people know her. They’ll notice her missing, and we don’t want the attention.” He turned to Tomaxx. “Wipe her.”

The Chiss nodded and was back in her mind in a moment, but this time the woman’s whimpers and cries died out, a glazed look taking over her features, with just a hint of wince. 

“ _You won’t really remember us_ ,” Tomaxx murmured, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality—soft, calm, and low. “ _You saw some figures in the alley, they made you nervous, but they did you no harm. You’re going to go home now. You won’t remember us well.”_

Not so much an actual memory wipe, this form of Influence still went deeper than just a few guiding words. Kylo had only been successful at it a couple times, but then again his mastery of the mind was not as precise as Tomaxx’s. Usually when they were done with interrogations they would kill and dump the body, or let Cseenan get rid of most of it. But occasionally they needed to get in, get info, and get out without disrupting the lives of anyone involved. 

If this woman remembered anything about this after today, it would be like a particularly vivid nightmare to her. The edges would be dulled, the details not quite memorable, but her fear would not be so easily erase-able, and therein lied the reason why it would not be completely wiped, and why Tomaxx did not try to convince her she saw no one at all. It was easier to downplay it, to twist it into something more dream-like, than to try and insist it never happened.

When he was finished, the Knight stepped away again with a sigh.

“It’s done.”

Kylo released his hold and the woman collapsed to the ground with a soft moan and a tinkling of glass. 

He gave a huff, glancing around to make sure no one was around to see her fall, and then gestured impatiently at her, prompting Tomaxx and Cseenan to move to get her back to her feet. She wobbled a bit, but seemed like she was going to be able to walk, so the Chiss gave her a guiding push with a low, “ _Go home now_.” With a dazed nod and murmured, “I’ll go home now,” she did.

They watched her stumble a bit, but her steps became more stable as she went on, and then she turned a corner and disappeared. 

Cseenan turned to Tomaxx.

“Back to the casino square?”

“Yes, we’ll keep scanning around.”

Kylo spoke up, “I’ll come with you.”

“The extra pair of eyes and senses will be helpful, Master,” Tomaxx said with a nod, and they agreed to meet there, splitting up to find different routes.

It was a slower night in the square though, some exciting event happening in a different part of the city having thinned the usual crowd. 

When Kylo finally called it for the night and they were back in the shuttle, washed, changed, and eating, his thoughts returned to the intense unease he’d felt in his gut, wondering if it had been another kind of warning telling him that the glass maker woman would be a dead-end. The fact that it had gone away before pursuing her told him it was something else, because otherwise it would have gotten worse the closer he went to her. 

For a second he wondered if it was related to Girl, his stomach dropping slightly at the thought that something had happened to her, that she had been injured—stabbed or shot in the stomach—and he had just been feeling the distant echoes of it. 

But, he reminded himself once again that if something like that had happened he would have been notified. There was no transmission from the ship, so she was probably fine. His senses must have been triggered by something else. 

He eyed the shuttle’s transmission link more than once though, tempted to send a inquiry. But he stayed his hand. 

_Stop being ridiculous_ , he thought to himself with a scowl as he climbed into his bunk. _Just go to sleep and focus on the mission._

But as he lay with his eyes closed in the dark, the soft breathing and shifting of his Knights the only sounds in the small room, his fingers traced the outline of the metal on his wrist as his thoughts turned towards darker things. 

His mind was filled with images of the glassmaker woman in Tomaxx’s mental grasp, and of Girl collapsing in the medbay when she saw him, her deep unease around him still, and of all the horrible things he himself had put her through so far, and Kylo found himself wondering if, when the time came to cut her off from the Force, it might be the more merciful thing to have Tomaxx wipe her mind of all of them, of all of the Force, as completely as possible. 

She would just think of it as a terribly vivid dream, or just another nightmare, and she could live a relatively normal life somewhere, free of all of this. Free of him. 

The idea was a fanciful one that twisted Kylo’s gut, and he rolled onto his side and forced himself to not think about anything anymore until sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Lots to ponder from this chapter. 
> 
> Any interesting things that caught your minds eye? What do you think of Tomaxx's theory about Rey? 
> 
> So originally I was going to post ch 69 on the 27th, but I and my therapist think I need a break, so I'm going to post the next chapter on **January 3rd, 9PM Japan time.**  
>  I'll still be writing Chains of course, but I just need the deadline to not be looming so heavily over me. My mental health is not so great right now because winter sucks and I can't visit America and see my family for Christmas this year due to the virus. Japan is great but I need a break once a year to refuel, and I don't get one this year. I almost had to work on Christmas but managed to get PTO. I'm just really tired, y'all, down to my soul 😩
> 
> If you follow me on Instagram, twitter, or Tumblr, I will give some updates about Chains, but also I'm working on a very fluffy Reylo au ficlet/comic that I'll start posting and it might be a nice way to tide everyone over until I start posting chapters again. There will be a NSFW part of the ficlet/comic that will be posted only to twitter though.
> 
> In other news, my birthday is January 1st (wooo 28 years ollld 🥳) and in lieu of spending time with my family or going to a club I've decided I want to watch the sunrise. It's theoretically the first sunrise of the new year in the entire world when you see it from Japan (land of the rising sun and all), and I'm thinking of live streaming it on Instagram if it's not snowing or raining. Let's all watch 2021 start together, because I'm sure we're absolutely ready for 2020 to just, _leave_ , and it'll be nice to have some proof that it does.
> 
> **Next Chapter: Rey has a not so great confrontation in the corridor and makes a strange and terrifying discovery while meditating, and Kylo and the Knights finally get a lead.  
>  Posting date: Sunday, January 3rd 9PM Japan time**
> 
> ## [EDIT] NEW POSTING DATE IS NOW SUNDAY JANUARY 10th AT 9PM JAPAN TIME. I need more time to get some work stuff done. Thank you for your patience and understanding! [/EDIT]
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Winter Solstice/Yule, and Happy New Years in advance!! ❄️ ☃️🎄🌞✝️⚛️☪️✡️🕎
> 
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	69. On the Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! ✨✋✨ Thank you for your patience with the postponement of this chapter. I decided it needed to be split after all as well, so this only has Rey's POV.
> 
> No warnings beyond that.
> 
> Enjoy!!! 😁✨

* * *

Rey woke up on the third day alone and realized as she did her morning ablutions that she had not felt this good in a long, long time. She still had some bowel discomfort and found herself sat in the ‘fresher for a bit, but the terrible pain was gone and her body felt energized and stronger than it had since she’d left Jakku. She would try to walk for as long as she could today, making sure to be wary of her stomach and her heart, but she felt like she could go for hours now. 

Without preamble she swallowed down another probiotic tablet before her morning cup of nutrimeal, chatting happily with FX-8 about something interesting she’d learned on the holonet.  
  
And once she knew her stomach was settled, they were back out in the corridor, her steps strong. Her heart was a pounding beat in her chest, but for the first twenty minutes it felt championing instead of hindering. She was still left panting and sweating as she neared twenty five minutes, and opted to sit and catch her breath for a bit, but her lengthening endurance motivated her to get back up and keep going.

As they neared the rooms again, she looked at the stretch of corridor ahead—the area she’d been avoiding up til now—and resolutely continued forward before her mind could convince her not to.

She would not let her fear keep her in this small section anymore. She was going to explore the whole level today.

FX-8 did not comment about their new route, unknowing of the significance of it for Rey, and a part of her was grateful for it. She didn’t want to make a big deal of it because it wasn’t a big deal. She was stupid for letting her fear keep her from going this way. 

When she got down to the T junction, she turned left to follow the path that she’d gone before, the day she’d hallucinated herself out of the rooms. She was going to prove to herself it was fine. There was nothing scary about it. She was going to find the viewport and look out of it and it was going to be fine because there was no Barabel to come after her this time. 

She walked with purpose, hands fisted at her sides, but faltered when she neared the door that held the dark whispers. She had thought it was part of the hallucination, a figment of her broken and sick mind, but as she passed it the shadowy voices returned. 

She could not make out what they said—it was in a language that made her skin crawl—and the fact that she could hear them at all almost made her turn around and high-tail it back to the safety of the rooms corridor. Whatever was in that room was the darkest thing on this ship, even darker than her master and the Knights. It felt old, and the air tasted bitter and musty around it. It was terrifying.

But she had made it past last time. She was stronger now, she could do it again, and so she tried to block out the whispers and shakily kept going. 

To her relief the voices went away as she got to the corner where she knew the viewport was, and she found herself more disappointed than she thought she’d be as she made the turn and didn’t see a ray of light cutting through the grey gloom. 

But then she remembered that the nearest sun was several sectors away, which meant no sunlight, no warm beams. 

She had finally started to get used to the cold of the ship lately, although she still found herself shivering every now and then, her fingers aching and her skin prickling with gooseflesh. She wished it was warmer. She wished she could see the sun again. All of this grey and black and artificial light was starting to make her feel like she was becoming colorblind.

Rey lifted herself on her toes to look through the viewport, the small opening showing infinite space, infinite stars, and once again she was left in awe of it. The transparisteel fogged from her breath, and after wiping it away she blinked as several small ships silently flew past. They looked like the round ones with the flat side panels that went after the soldier and beaten man—the pilot prisoner. 

Did her master beat him? Or did the Knights bloody him up like that? Did they infiltrate his mind for the information they were looking for, taking turns, scrambling his thoughts?

Rey’s stomach curled at the thought, so she banished it away and left the viewport. 

She looked at the entrance to the corridor, where Lord Cseenan had stood and stalked towards her, where Lord Ren had brandished his saber and furiously declared, _“The girl is MINE!”_

Her hand came up to touch the necklace, a mixture of feelings churning within her—fear and discomfort and unease, but also something light, something like safety or…almost _belonging._

Of course she belonged to Lord Ren—she was his slave. But she couldn’t deny that he had also saved her multiple times now, and she owed him her life for every one. This necklace was another testament to how dedicated he was to keeping her, and her dedication to getting better and serving him would be her testament to him.

With FX-8 by her side, Rey continued to explore the level, peering curiously at the doors that exuded more coldness. She decided they must be the Knights’ rooms, and quickly moved by them, as if just standing outside was enough to be considered an invasion of their privacy. 

“Are all of these doors for other sleeping quarters?” She asked the droid as they walked, passing by door after door.

<yes. They are currently unoccupied>

Rey frowned, although she understood why no one would want to sleep on this floor. It was cold, and the darkness of the three males was oppressive. Surely even people without Force powers could sense it.

Aside from the Knights’ rooms, the dark door, and the viewport, there wasn’t much else to see, although Rey still felt elated with herself for exploring it at all—and for not having to sit or rest as much to do it.

She and the medidroid were making their way back to Lord Ren’s rooms when she stopped, hearing a sound from ahead. She assumed it was the droids returning to fix the panel, but it was two humans who turned the corner coming towards her. 

The officers both paused in their steps and conversation upon seeing her, but after a shared look they kept moving forward. 

Rey’s heart began to pound from her sudden adrenaline and she made sure to measure her breathing so as to not get lightheaded. She was fine, they probably weren’t going to do anything to her, they were probably just using the express lift because Lord Ren and the Knights were gone. FX-8 was there to keep her safe, and she had the necklace. She was fine. 

_Just keep your head down and mouth shut_ , she told herself as she moved closer to the side, walking as if she, too, had a purpose here, a place to be, a task to do.

As they drew closer, Rey tried to shrink further into herself. She was just a passing shadow, nothing to see, nothing to look at, but suddenly there was a hand on her arm, drawing her to a stop.

“You’re Lord Ren’s slave,” the pale officer said, not a question, just a statement of fact, an accusation. 

Rey remembered that her master had told her not to speak to anyone, so she kept silent, face cast down, hoping the two officers would get bored of her and leave her alone. Her heart was thundering in her chest and it was beginning to ache. 

“I’m surprised he left you behind,” the officer continued, and Rey did not like how he did not drop his hand from her arm. “From what I heard he’s quite possessive of his things. Are you happy he’s gone? Glad he’s not around to _…possess_ you?”

Rey clenched her jaw, counting her breaths in her mind, praying she wouldn’t pass out. 

“Are you mute, girl?” The other officer asked, his tone haughty. “Or just stupid?”

“Well, she is from Jakku,” the grabby officer sneered, his hand finally dropping, and Rey took a small step away. “Probably doesn’t even understand Basic.” He leaned down, into Rey’s space, trying to catch her eye. His gloved finger tapped heavily at her head and she tried to keep herself from flinching away. 

_“Hello,_ anybody in there?”

And then Rey could sense his attention suddenly flaring, and his fingers dropped to curl around her necklace.

“What’s this then?” He asked, his voice slightly breathless with scandalous interest. 

“What?” The other officer asked, stepping closer. Rey shut her eyes, holding herself still, swallowing against the pressure on her throat. 

The first officer laughed mockingly. 

“It’s a kriffing collar. A tracking collar.” He tugged, and Rey inhaled sharply, forced to take a step closer, trying to keep herself from making a sound. “You really are his pet. A plaything for their amusement. Does he make you wear it when he’s here? Does he make you crawl on all fours while serving him and his Knights? I bet he does, and I bet you like it. You Junks are all about that, aren’t you? Begging for scraps.”

Rey swallowed again, trying to keep her heavy breathing quiet, trying to will the dark spots away. There was no Lord Ren to save her now, so she would either have to hope the officers lost interest and left her alone, or she’d have to do something to defend herself now. 

The decision was made for her as FX-8 spoke up finally.

<please unhand her. You are causing her cardiac distress. She is still recovering and needs to be kept calm or her heart problems will persist>

The officer looked up unhappily at the droid, as if just noticing it was there. 

“Heart problems, eh?” He looked back at Rey, giving another tug on the necklace before dropping it. “I bet _serving_ Kylo Ren gets your heart going, doesn’t it, Junk?”

Suddenly her chin was gripped hard, her face turned up against her will to look at the officer. He had brown eyes and a stubby nose, and Rey decided he was ugly and she hated him. 

“We know what you did, Junk, and no matter what the investigation says or how Ren twists the truth for his own agenda, we know what _really_ happened. You better watch your back, or you might find yourself in an airlock with only one way out.”

Rey scanned him fearfully, then in a sudden spur of affront she reached up and pushed his arm away, breaking his hold on her chin. 

She was not of the First Order, she was of the Ren. These men did not have a right to touch her this way.

There was a flash of indignation in the officer’s eyes, his hand raising as if to slap her, making her tense and flinch, but the other one gripped his arm with a low, “Come on, we should get going. They’re expecting us.”

Rey could only hold the heated eye contact for another second before lowering her gaze in deference, her anxiety and discomfort too much for her to handle. She heard the officer huff in dark amusement, then he turned and continued to walk away with the other one.

She stood still until she heard the lift open and close, and then she was leaning against the wall, sliding down to the cold floor, gasping for air and blinking away spots. 

<Are you alright?> the droid asked, creeping closer.

She shook her head, breathless and shaking, unable to speak. _Don’t have a panic attack here, not in the corridor, not where someone else might come along and see._

_Get up, you idiot. Get back to the rooms where it’s safe. No one will get you there._

But she couldn’t move, she couldn’t get herself to stand. She just wanted to curl up against the wall, she wanted to sink into the floor and disappear, she wanted—

_I wish Lord Ren was here,_ she thought, and reached up to grip the necklace, reassuring herself it was still there, reassuring herself it was not a collar, not there to degrade her, not to show ownership. It was for safety. Lord Ren was keeping her safe.

He would come back and she would tell him about the officers and then—

—he would probably hurt them. Or kill them. 

She did not want to be responsible for more officers dying aboard this ship—

But no, she wouldn’t be responsible, would she? Not according to Captain Ithowim. If Lord Ren decided to kill them, that would be his decision and she would have no control over it. 

Anxiety tightened in her chest. 

She still did not want there to be any risk at all for anyone to get hurt because she spoke about things that were not a problem. 

Yes, the officer had been unkind and rough, but she’d experienced far worse before. This wasn’t an issue big enough to involve her master. If he asked, she would tell him, but she would not offer the information. It was too risky. She did not want to give the First Order officers on board another reason to hate her. 

After catching her breath and just barely managing to keep herself from passing out, Rey stood on shaky legs and went as quickly as she could back to the cold rooms. A great sigh of relief escaped her as the door hissed shut behind her. She was safe here. Her master’s rooms would keep her safe. 

She felt her heart fall as she thought about the disrespectful way she’d pushed the officer’s hand from her face. Maybe Lord Ren would be angry at her for it. She shouldn’t have done it. 

Well, she’d suffer those consequences when he got back then. 

Once she got relatively settled down, and FX-8 checked her over to be certain she was alright and not about to collapse, Rey decided that meditating was probably a good idea now. She needed the calm, but she also wanted to stay productive, and building up the wall was both. Plus, this time she also wanted to try and check out the strange storm on the horizon. 

Rey dismissed the droid and then settled herself on the floor, folding her blanket under her rear to help cushion it somewhat from the hardness of the durasteel and the cold. It felt a bit sore from her sitting so long yesterday, so the slight reprieve was welcome.

Her mind was still frazzled from the confrontation in the corridor, so it took her longer to find focus, even with her humming and holding her wrists. But she was determined, and so she stayed patient with herself this time. Eventually the desert appeared beneath her feet, the dark red dune only visible from the shoulders up now because of the stones. 

The wall was thin, with cracks from the haphazard way they were stacked, but there was much less sand being blown by the wind so Rey still felt triumphant in her efforts. Maybe when Lord Ren got back he would notice and say something. She hoped he would. She didn’t want to disappoint him anymore, or annoy him with her loudness.

She laid more stones, and then when she felt it was a good enough build up for the time being, she turned towards the storm. 

It was still a dark, seemingly foreboding thing on the far horizon, a heavy blanket over black mountains that cut into the sky like a jagged blade. Silent lightning flashed, and Rey stepped forward, entranced. 

She thought it wouldn’t take much time to reach it, because this was her mind and surely it wasn’t so vast. She wasn’t smart enough for it to reach very far. What would be the point of all the space? 

But as she walked on, she began to realize that it was not going to be a quick trip. Still, though, she marched on, the dry desert ground creating puffs of white in the wake of her steps, the sun beating down in ribbons of light—but there was no terrible heat like she expected. Just a pleasant warmth. 

When she reached the edges of where the desert was shadowed by the clouds, a chill in the air made her shiver. She stopped to look around, to make sure it was safe, but it was still the desert, still the white sandy floor, no smoky creatures or dangerous things to be seen. 

She took a step into the shadow of the storm, and continued walking, reminding herself that this was her mind, this was a safe place, and whatever this storm was it had a purpose and it probably wasn’t harmful.

The closer to the mountains she got, the colder the air became, the more electrified with every silent bolt of lightning. And, the closer she got, the more she realized that the black mountains weren’t mountains at all. 

It was a _wall._

A giant, jagged, impossibly tall wall, and when she was close enough she was sure it was made out of black ice from the fog that drifted from it, and from the distant, echoing sounds of cracking and snapping. 

Why was this wall here? What was it keeping out?

….or what was it keeping _in?_

Why did her mind have something like this, and how was it created without her knowledge or memory? 

She looked back, squinting to try and see her dune and her tiny wall of stones, but they were so far away and so small in comparison to this, this _behemoth,_ that she couldn’t quite make them out at all.

Silent lightning struck the ground near her, the flash making her jolt and flinch with a gasp, the air sparking with energy. Her whole body tingled and buzzed as she inched closer to the wall, her wide eyes to the dark sky, afraid now of somehow getting struck by whatever the lightning represented in her mind. 

She would have to ask Lord Ren when he got back. Maybe he knew. 

She was close enough to the wall to touch it, the air freezing, a shadowy darkness to the ice that was more than just an absence of light. She hesitated, then tentatively reached forward through the fog, wafting it away, stepping forward, her hand trembling as she very carefully pressed her fingertips to the ice.

Instantly there was a gigantic flash in the sky of ten, twenty, fifty bolts of lightning, all silent but incredible in power and airborne electricity, and Rey shrank against the frigid wall, searching for safety, because the wall was dark and icy and shadowy, but somehow it did not scare her. There was something safe, something familiar about it.

As she pressed against it though, a terrible feeling of alarm filled the air. It was an inaudible piercing thing, and Rey looked around her, terrified of what could be making her Feel such a thing. 

And then, somehow, she could Feel that the wall was _changing,_ becoming darker, becoming _angry,_ the ice cracking into sharp points like daggers, forcing her to scramble away lest she be cut. 

Why was this wall trying to hurt her? Why was it here?

What the _kriff was going on—_

<—time for your mid-cycle meal, Girl>

All at once the sound of FX-8 startled Rey, and she flew from the wall as if an invisible hand had wrapped around her middle, yanking her from the storm, from the shadows and cold, back to her warm desert, back to the dune and the shaky wall around it, and she was sure she would fly right into it and destroy all of her hard work but instead she fell right back into herself on the ship, her arms pinwheeling to catch her as she slid on the floor from the impact. 

The cold, bright lights of the room had her wincing and blinking as she gasped for air, her whole body shaking from adrenaline. She righted herself, looking up at the medidroid with a wince, hissing from the sudden ache and pains coming from her body as she moved. She must have been sitting for over three hours for the droid to be coming with another meal now. 

That explained why her body felt like she’d been run over by a bantha, but the alarm she still felt, the shock from the wall, was not so easily explained. Was something bad about to happen? Was that what she was feeling? A Bad Omen?

She looked around the room, searching for anything wrong, anything smoky or bad. But it was only her and FX-8, nothing else out of place, nothing to explain the feeling. 

<are you alright?> the droid asked.

Rey took a couple breaths, eyes still flickering about as she shakily rose to unsteady feet. 

“Yeah, I just, I think I just fell asleep again and had a bad dream.”

<why are you sleeping while sitting on the floor?>

Rey rubbed at her aching thighs, limping to the couch.

“I…I like to sit and think sometimes, and sometimes I fall asleep.”

<why don’t you sit on the couch and think?>

“That’s a good question,” she grumbled. She only sat on the floor because Lord Ren had, but she was sure that he would not approve of her meditating on the couch for some reason. Better to stick with the floor for now, until he told her otherwise. 

<You should sit on the couch and think> the droid told her, almost chiding her, and she nodded quietly, accepting the proffered cup. She remembered to take the probiotic first before starting on it, and quietly drank it down this time, lost in her thoughts.

The alarmed feeling disappeared after a minute or so, but there was still a strange buzzing beneath Rey’s skin, in her chest. She felt antsy and jittery, full of nervous energy and anxiety and anticipation for some reason. She didn’t know what she was anticipating, and because she didn’t know she was starting to become worried. Was this a Feeling or just her own broken mind? Was it something to do with Lord Ren? Was he alright?

Her worry began to compound in her mind, and she started to feel another panic attack beginning to build. She needed to distract herself. Meditation was not a good option now, so she picked up her datapad and tried to focus on another mind puzzle, asking FX-8 to stay around after his observation because she was afraid to be alone with her thoughts anymore. She did not want to have a panic attack alone. 

Eventually, after becoming completely engrossed in the the mind puzzles, the buzzing in Rey’s breast disappeared too—at least to negligible, mostly unnoticeable levels. If she concentrated hard she could feel it again, but she did not want to feel it. She just wanted it to go away.

She was never going near that storm and wall ever again. Not if it left her feeling like this.

The medidroid had to leave after a couple hours to be serviced and check in with the medbay, and for the first time Rey wished she could go with him. Even being around Captain Greev was preferable to sitting by herself in the rooms while she felt so unsettled. 

She paced the room, too jittery to sit, until her legs were wobbly from the strain and she was breathless and her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. She almost fainted, but she quickly sat and got her lungs and pulse back under control. By then she was tired enough to nap, and did so. Strange, stormy dreams about loth cats and empty streets and bright sunlight had her tossing and turning on her bed until FX-8 came back with her dinner cup.

Another probiotic down, another cup ingested. Her trips to the toilet were becoming less frequent and less uncomfortable, which she was extremely grateful for. Lord Ren was coming back in two days and she wanted to be able to eat normal food without needing to use the ‘fresher so much, especially since it was in his bedroom. 

A droid came by with their clean laundry as well—which Rey was grateful for because she was down to her last clean everything—and she silently—if a little restlessly—watched it put away Lord Ren’s things, mentally noting which drawers held what so she can put them away herself next time.

In spite of how on-edge she felt, she was also incredibly tired—tired enough to get ready for sleep after the droid left—and Rey knew she deserved this exhaustion. She did so much walking today, in and outside of her mind. She didn’t feel guilty at all by getting ready for sleep early, her thoughts sending out a silent plea that her tomorrow would be less stressful. 

She probably shouldn’t have prayed for anything, given what happened last time, but she figured that things couldn’t get worse than what had already happened to her, so what harm could a little hope be?

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're back! 🤩🙌✨ 
> 
> We're starting to see more glimpses of Rey almost growing a backbone 👀 
> 
> What do you think the wall is? 
> 
> I hope everyone had a nice holiday break! I apologize for not replying back to all of the comments last chapter. I did read them all, and I thank everyone for their kind words of support and affirmation ❤️😭❤️😭  
> I'm doing a bit better now, mostly because I've been distracting myself with metric fuck-tons of drawing, but I'm still suffering a kind of semi-functional depression and it's messing with my ability to focus on things, which really sucks for my writing. I get two sentences down and then my brain is all *clashing cymbals and machine gun noises*. Drawing seems to be the one thing I can do for hours without losing focus, but I'm going to push myself to stay on top of my writing schedule regardless. 
> 
> I had ADHD as a child and I thought it went away but maybe it's back? Can it come back? Did it ever go away? Idk but this sucks. 
> 
> In other news, two weeks from now is the 1 year anniversary of the day I first posted this story 👁👄👁 In one year I wrote 330k words. Insane. 
> 
> **Next chapter: Kylo and the Knights finally get a lead, and an alarming experience leaves Kylo somewhat out of sorts.  
>  Posting date: Sunday, January 17th at 9PM Japan time. **
> 
> [✨You can find the links to my various social medias (Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, Spotify, etc.) here! Come see my fanart, or chat! 😁✨❤️✨](https://www.linktr.ee/veggieheist)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com


	70. The Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my friend K❤️ who graciously agreed to be a second beta, and helped catch a lot of mistakes my worn mind missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some mind pillaging and very mild torture in this chapter.

* * *

It was only mid-morning on Phu and Kylo was already sweating and tired of the heat. They had trailed another possible suspect, cornered the man, and infiltrated his mind, but it was another dead end. 

This time the suspected man was inconsequential enough to become just another dead thing floating in the sewers, once Cseenan had his fill of course.

Now Kylo was heading back to the market area, hoping his scanning would find something. Anything. He was starting to feel the creeping tells of something that felt like _desperation._ They needed to find a lead soon, because it was their third day on the planet, which meant there were only two days left. Normally they would stay for as long as it took to find something, but this time the deadline was more strict. He had a promise to keep to Girl, and he was not going to break it. 

If Tomaxx and Cseenan could sense his impatience, they did not comment, although Kylo knew that the Chiss was probably aware of the reason why. After their conversation in the restaurant yesterday the Knight had not brought up the necklace again, although he’d eyed Kylo’s bracelet in the morning when he’d been dressing. Just as Kylo had thought, it was starting to chafe his skin, leaving red marks near the bones of his wrist. 

“Why don’t you just take it off,” Tomaxx had suggested quietly, trying to stay out of earshot of Cseenan. “It’ll be safe on the ship.”

“I can’t,” Kylo had replied in the same low tone. At the Knight’s quizzical look he clarified, “It’s not that I can’t use the Force to unlock it, it’s that the beacons are on a continuous transmission loop. If one of them opens, it breaks the loop and causes the other to as well. If I want hers to stay locked, I’ll have to just bear this until I get back.”

The Chiss nodded wordlessly, the answer satisfying him, although Kylo could tell he had choice words still to say about it. Perhaps he thought Kylo deserved the blisters for putting a ‘collar’ on Girl at all. 

Well, Girl was wearing a _necklace,_ not a collar, and Kylo would fight anyone who tried to allude otherwise. He wasn’t a degrader. She wasn’t a pet. He was getting tired of having to explain himself on the matter. _Why am I always having to defend myself in regards to her?_

As Kylo weaved through the throng of street goers, eyes roaming the many faces, senses spread out like fingers in sand, something flared with familiarity at the same time movement drew his eyes. His hand drifted to where his saber was hidden in the folds of his cloak, but it was only the slave boy—Petr. Running after that damned loth again. 

Kylo knew he should just ignore the boy and keep going, but there was something about him that brought up more than amusement at his relentlessness, more than curiosity at whether he’d catch it this time, that drew Kylo to follow him. He wasn’t sure why yet, but he knew he needed to follow Petr.

The loth streaked through shops, between legs, upsetting a draft etopi and almost causing it to trample the boy as he ran between its stomping legs. 

The cat was slower today though, its limp more pronounced than in previous days, perhaps from infection having set in. It ended up inside a pottery shop, leaping over bowls and plates, nearly causing them to fall over. 

Petr scrambled after him but he was much less lithe, so when he bumped into the pottery a few pieces fell. He caught one but missed another, the bowl shattering on the floor. He winced but placed the one caught in his hands back down, still set on catching his quarry, which had become cornered against a wall of vases. 

Kylo watched from afar as the boy slowly approached it again, hands up, uncaring of the hissing and growling, his arm still wrapped in bandages from yesterday’s scratches. 

The man wondered how much more injury it would take for Petr to just let the loth fend for itself, and scowled at how it seemed the boy was going to try and pet it again. 

But this time when the boy moved he was quicker, more focused, and his hand did not pet, no, he grabbed the loth by its scruff, and the cat froze, eyes wide, still hissing, but unmoving. 

The shop owner took this time to show up from the other door, screaming at the slave, shaking all four arms at him and yelling about calling a constable and his master and ensuring he’d get beaten for destroying his wares. The child looked terrified, clutching the immobilized animal to him and searching around for a way out.

Kylo didn’t know what exactly brought him to go forward and step up to the male shopkeeper, to weave his words with Influence as he told him, _“It’s not really a problem. You’ll let me pay for the damages, and let the boy go.”_

The four arms dropped, his orange eyes glazing over as he repeated Kylo’s words. The dark lord dug out some credits and handed them over, and the owner nodded dazedly, meandering away. 

Petr looked up at Kylo with wide eyes.

“Thanks, mister,” he said, adjusting his grip on the cat. 

Kylo didn’t say anything at first, merely looked down at the boy in silent observation, somewhat perturbed that the child did not become unsettled the way people usually did.

“You work at the restaurant by the sanctuary,” Kylo finally said, and the boy nodded. 

“Yeah, my master owns it. My family serves him.” He shrugged. “Except my sister. She got sold to a work house in a different sector.” He looked down at the loth and then peered up at Kylo, his face slightly sheepish. “Hey, could you help me again? I need to put bandages on this loth. I can try to do it by myself, but I think it will run away again if I try. Could you help me?”

Kylo blinked at the boy’s blithe segue from something that by all accounts should have been upsetting for him, to something so arbitrary. 

He found himself nodding silently though, and the boy gave a nod back. 

“Okay, thanks, I have some bandages back home. It’s not far. We can walk.” He was already beginning to lead the way out, and Kylo followed like a large shadow.

He really shouldn’t be getting distracted, but there was still something about this situation that told Kylo it’d be better to follow through. It was an unmistakable Feeling, this time in his chest, growing stronger. _Keep following him._

True to his word, the boy’s home—a rickety apartment shoved between a butcher’s shop and what looked to be a workhouse for shoes— was not far. There was no one home when they entered, and Kylo wanted to berate the boy for being so stupid as to let in a complete stranger who was by all accounts extremely dangerous and willing to do terrible things to get what he wanted. 

“You can sit at the table,” Petr said, indicating to the worn furniture. “I need to give you the loth so I can get the bandages, okay?”

“Alright,” Kylo muttered, pulling out a creaking chair to sit. 

The boy waited until Kylo was settled in his seat before fixing him with a stern look that almost brought up a puff of laughter in the man. Almost. 

“Okay, you have to hold the back of the neck,” the boy began. “You might think it’s hurtful, but it’s not. Not really. Their mamas hold them this way as kittens so when you do it they go back to being like a kitten again. It calms them down. See?” He looked down at the loth, which was still unmoving in his arms, and also no longer growling, its small eyes half closed in slits. 

“Okay, I’m going to hand it to you. Make sure you grip it tight, okay? Don’t let it escape.”

Kylo nodded and the boy gingerly passed the loth to him, waiting until he knew the man had a good hold before releasing his grip on the cat’s nape. The move jostled the animal and it began to growl lowly in its throat and kick out, but once Kylo resumed the hold on its scruff it settled in his lap, completely still, just breathing and flicking the end of its bushy tail.

The boy hurried away, stomping up the stairs, his steps creaking on the old wooden boards above Kylo’s head. He looked down at the cat in his arms and huffed, internally scolding himself for getting into this mess. It was wasting so much time, how could he be so kriffing stupid?

Petr wasn’t gone long though, bounding down the shuddering steps and unloading the medical things onto the table. 

“Okay, hold him still, I gotta clean it.”

His young brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled the loth cat’s leg out from where it had been tucked beneath it, looking it over before grabbing a jar of something that smelled incredibly bitter when he opened it. 

He took a glop of it onto his fingers and began to apply it to the visible wound, and whatever it was must have stung because the cat began to growl and hiss again, its muscles tensing, an attempt to move and get away thwarted still by the strong grip Kylo had on its nape. He squeezed just slightly harder, and it calmed further, only the low growl evidence that it was in any distress. 

“You and your friends have been coming to the restaurant lately,” the boy suddenly said, glancing up. “Momma says you ordered the slergak. Did you actually eat it?” He had a kind of disgusted look of fascination, and Kylo was almost loath to shake his head and cause the boy disappointment. 

“No.”

“Oh, well, only the Mon Calamari and Quarren like that stuff. When I heard you got it I thought maybe you were one of them, but I guess your head wouldn’t fit beneath your mask if that was true. Sorry, can you lift him a little bit?”

Wordlessly Kylo did so, a sort of unsettled feeling in him at how this boy had noticed them, had apparently spoken of them. They shouldn’t have stayed in the restaurant, they should have left. He was going to have to get Tomaxx out here to try and wipe the whole family. 

It was either that or get rid of them before leaving, and Kylo did not want to do that. They might need to come back to the planet someday, and having a large pile of bodies in their wake would complicate things. 

“Thanks. I saw you guys and it reminded me of some other guys like you that sometimes come in. Talking secrets and stuff. Kaleema and momma say to just leave people alone, but sometimes it gets boring and I like to listen.” He looked up at Kylo, pausing his wrapping of the wounded limb. His voice lowered to conspiratorial levels. “Are you one of those guys?”

Kylo’s head tilted, his interest flaring. 

“Those guys?” He repeated.

“Yeah, the,” his voice was a whisper, “the resisters?” 

Kylo froze, his heart thundering in his chest.

The boy continued, unaware of the affect his words were having on the man.

“Momma says they’re stupid revolutionaries and they’re just making problems, but Kaleema sometimes talks to them. One time I followed them and they went to the workshops, but it’s so stinky now that I don’t like to follow them anymore. Hey can you hold this for a sec? I need to tie the ends.”

Speechless now from shock, Kylo aided the boy with his task, his mind whirling. He needed to comm the Knights _immediately._ They needed to go back to the workshops and do a full, thorough sweep. The Resistance was there somewhere.

Cseenan’s gut had been right. 

“Okay, it’s all tied now.”

“Do you know where they go, in the workshops?” Kylo asked. “We’re friends, but we haven’t been able to find them. Everything is so secret, you see.”

The boy made a thinking face. 

“Um, I think so. Sometimes they go to an old caf mill. Probably smells better inside but I’ve never been in. Okay, so, I’m going to pick him up now, so you can let go.”

Kylo let the boy take the loth, making sure the kid’s grip on its scruff was good enough before completely releasing it, and then he stood.

“I have to go now,” he told the boy. “Don’t tell anyone that I’m looking for my friends, all right? There might be spies. I don’t want the wrong people to know that we’re here. Understand?”

Petr gave a somber nod, “Yessir.”

“Good boy. You should probably get back to the restaurant.”

“Yeah, master will be mad but it’s okay.” He nuzzled into the loth cat. “He’s all better now, so I can stop worrying so much.”

They both headed for the door, the boy grinning up at him. “I’ll see you at the restaurant sometime!”

“Yeah, kid,” Kylo mumbled, “You’ll see us again.”

Petr did not take his words as the threat that they were, only grinning larger.

“Okay, bye!” He said, and then hurried away, the cat still locked in his grip.

As soon as the boy was gone from sight Kylo looked around him, judging the area was clear and lifted his comm. 

“Tomaxx, Cseenan, I have an important update. Meet me at the ship.”

They finally had a lead.  


* * *

At the ship Kylo told his Knights what the slave boy had said, and after weighing the validity of his words they decided to spend the rest of the day expressly scouting the workshops. It would be tricky to not stand out, but they were attuned to working in the shadows. They’d find a way. 

Kylo turned to Cseenan before they departed, telling him, “If you have another feeling, tell us and we’ll check it out.”

The Barabel nodded, the responsibility bringing a gratified glint to his eye. “Yes, Master.” 

They headed to the workshop district, taking separate paths until they each got to their respective areas to search. It still smelled like shit, and the growing heat and humidity of late morning was just making it worse—especially beneath Kylo’s mask, which was not equipped with air filters the way his usual helmet was. 

Concentrating to keep himself from gagging, Kylo made his way to where one of the seven caf mills was located. They had decided to put motion detectors by the four they couldn’t watch themselves, and this was one of them. 

He dug in his side satchel for the small sensors, casually looking around him before attaching them to the underside of the awning above the door. There was a camera already directed to the street that they were able to bi-pass security for and feed into their holos. If anyone tripped the sensors, they could look to see if it was just a passerby or if it was someone more shifty—like a Resistance member. 

Done with his task, Kylo began to head to his watch location, the comm already to his mouthpiece as he quietly informed his Knights of his progress.

“Area S-1 is marked. Heading for S-2 now.”

_“Yes, Master,”_ came the echoed reply from his Knights. 

Cseenan’s voice continued, _“There’s a crew of thieves coming from the east-wise. Just seen them break into a place and take things.”_

“Shit. We’ll make sure to avoid them,” Kylo said, and adjusted his route to do so. The less people or droids saw them, the better, and they especially needed to avoid getting caught up in any local trouble. It was annoying that they had chosen to commit such a crime now because it was going to draw attention to the area regardless, and the Knights needed things to stay quiet. 

Kylo found a good alcove to crouch in when he got to his watch area, deep in the shadows where no one would be able to detect him unless they were looking. The noon sun was beating down on the streets, becoming a blinding light that helped mask him further.

He was only crouched there in the dark alcove for ten minutes when he felt it. 

At first it was just a creeping feeling of someone approaching, so he shrank further into the shadows. But just when he expected someone to pass him by, there was no one. He could sense someone extremely close, but he could not see them. Were they on the roof? Were they inside the building he was huddled by? 

No, this was different. The feeling was familiar, but muddled somehow, like hearing the hum of electricity without feeling or seeing it. 

But he was sure it was someone he knew. Which meant it was probably a Resistance member. 

He lifted his comm, his voice quiet and low, “I may have found something. Stand by for—“

There was a sharp flare of electricity in the air just as something _brushed up against his mind_ , and Kylo immediately froze, his whole body tensing, his mind whirling about who it could possibly be. Was it Luke? Did he come out of hiding, and were they too late? Or was it his mother, somehow having found the control to reach out in the Force and try to infiltrate his mental defenses? 

Or was it someone else, an unknown Force user? Again, Kylo was sure he recognized the Force signature but,

No,

that’s impossible. 

It couldn’t be—

Again the presence was against his mind, pressing, almost as if it was haphazardly trying to enter it. Not in a forceful way though, just pushing at his walls like the vague pressure of a decomp chamber.

Kylo threw up every mental shield he could muster, not willing to give whoever it was even an inch to wheedle inside. He could sense fear at the sharp pushback he gave, and it made him sneer beneath his mask. 

_That’s right, you’re fucking with the wrong man_ , he thought. 

And very suddenly in the span of a breath the presence nearly vanished, and Kylo was left bewildered and reeling there in the sweltering shadows.

_“Master?”_ Came Cseenan’s tinny voice.

Tomaxx spoke next, voice strained, _“Master I’m coming to you.”_

Kylo blinked, breathing hard, searching around him for any physical evidence that someone had been there, someone he missed seeing, but the streets were empty. He was alone.

“Don’t bother,” he quickly remembered to reply, the words falling from him before he could think. “It was just another thief. I moved them along. Everything is fine here. How are things on your ends?”

There was a pause before Tomaxx answered,

_“All fine in S-3.”_

Cseenan also chimed in, _“Good in S-4.”_

Kylo nodded to himself. “Good, good. Keep watching. We’ll find them today.”

_“…Yes, Master.”_

The electricity in the air died out a minute later, but Kylo could still feel a buzzing beneath his skin, in his chest— an unease, an anticipation. Once again he wondered if someone was nearby, or if something bad was about to happen. It put him in a tense fight mode there in the shadow of the alcove. His eyes scanned the area with an intensity that was probably more burning than the sun. Sweat dripped down his face beneath the mask, soaked his clothes even in the shade. 

He knew who the presence had felt like, but it was impossible. She was on the _Finalizer,_ she was _there_ and not _here._ There was no way she could be here. 

The heat must be frying his mind. He must be thinking of her too much, and now it was clouding his judgement. He gripped the bracelet hard, indenting it into his gloved palm, gritting his teeth and silently scolding himself. 

_Stop thinking about her._

He shook the thoughts from his head, and tried to focus on the task at hand, knowing that they had just one more day after this to find something or he was either going to have to leave prematurely and face Snoke’s wrath, or break his promise to Girl, and her mournful face was one he did not want to imagine—

_Stop. Thinking. About. Her._

“Kriffing fuck,” he grumbled under his breath, standing to his feet. He felt like pacing. He had too much energy in him, and it was making him feel like he was bursting out of his skin. 

What the fuck was going on?

He shouldn’t move from his spot though, he shouldn’t move out in the open much at all. He could be seen, his presence could be remembered. 

But he needed to do something or he was going to combust. 

_Clear your mind, find the calm waters, find balance_ , he told himself. _Stop acting like an untrained child. You are not that boy anymore—you have control, you have training._

He could not lose control here, now. He could not accidentally shatter windows or crack the foundations of the nearby buildings. That would draw far, far too much attention. 

Kylo clenched his fists as hard as he could, clenched every muscle in his arms and back and shoulders as well, the strain making him tremble but he just needed a _release._

His comm gave a tinny alert, and he quickly lifted it.

“Report.”

Cseenan’s voice came through once again, this time even more quiet.

_“There are three people who have gone into the caf mill in S-4. I can’t make out the scents from the shit in the air, but I have a feelie. It’s them.”_

Kylo let out a breath, the tension going with it. Finally they might have a way to the Resistance, a way to the map.

“I’m coming to you,” he told the Knight, and pocketed his comm. 

He should stay where he was in case other Resistance members came to his area, but he needed to move, he needed to get rid of this electric energy ricocheting within him. 

Kylo had to dodge around a patrolling security droid and a few roaming citizens, but otherwise his route was free of people, the smell of the sewage plant getting stronger the further he went. When he finally came upon Cseenan’s hiding place the air was practically steaming with the foul stench, and Kylo had no idea how the Barabel was able to handle it. 

It made sense why the Rebels would choose to meet in secret here even now; it was uninhabitable, which meant better secrecy for their purpose.

But they underestimated just how much pain and discomfort Kylo and his Knights were willing to endure to find them.

“Good work,” Kylo murmured as he settled in beside Cseenan on the rooftop diagonal from the caf mill. 

The Barabel gave him a nod, and then his sharp eyes were trained on the building again. He took a small probe from his small side bag, pressing to activate it. The little bot rose from his hand, it’s photosensor eye flickering to life and focusing on its master. 

“Check that building, stay unseen,” the Knight ordered, and the little probe beeped in assent, then pivoted and floated over the edge of the roof. They watched it cross the street, and then it disappeared around the corner of the building, likely to find an inconspicuous way in. 

And then they waited, Cseenan still as a statue while Kylo struggled to not fidget from the lingering buzzing energy within him. It was a reversal of how things typically were that would have been comical if Kylo wasn’t at risk of endangering the mission with his lack of control. He would need to meditate later, because there was no place here for him to burn off the energy with saber practice or drills without drawing attention. 

_“Restless, Princey? Let’s you and I take a trip down to the Red Street and see if we can’t find someone to help **release** y—“_

The memory of Visser was enough to shock Kylo like a cold bucket of water, helping to calm some of the agitation within him out of pure spite because he absolutely did _not_ need that sort of ‘release’, this wasn’t even that kind of ‘restless energy.’ He shoved the memory—and the shame that rose up with it—deep, deep down, locking it away. Even just the idea of it curled his stomach.

No, he had control now, he had the Way of Ren, and he was Master of it. Whatever had caused him to become so on edge and fidgety—whatever strange presence, pretending to be someone it _wasn’t—_ was not going to get the better of him now. 

Kylo closed his eyes and counted his breaths, clearing his mind, using Cseenan’s dark aura as a sort of anchor to help steady him further. He opened them once the feeling of calm washed over him, his heartbeat slowing, some tension abating. The energy was still there, but he had subdued it. It was good timing too, because Cseenan’s comm beeped, prompting him to open up the small holo disk to see what the probe was transmitting. 

The small, grainy image of three figures floated in blue before them, and the Knight switched on the audio to low, bringing tinny voices up.

_“—shouldn’t be a problem because the information is encrypted. No one will know it. If we can hold our position and stay secret, we will be able to relay things between Resistance holdouts and keep them safer. The way they transmit things now is too risky.”_

_“Having us be a relay point is even riskier! I think we should shut it down. Running the occasional message is different from being a middleman for all of the communications in ten sectors!”_

_“They can’t keep comms open so much out in this region because they know the enemy is too close, Brett, you know this.”_

_“I don’t like it, Erin. What if they find it? They’d have so much. They could destroy us.”_

_“Like I said, the information will be encrypted. Double encrypted, even. And the tower is hidden, and it piggybacks on the normal frequencies here so it won’t be detected. They’re counting on us.”_

The elder figure spoke up. _“You said it’s already on?”_

_“Yessir.”_

_“Kriff,”_ grumbled Brett. _“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”_

_“Yeah, we get that, but you’re not the one making decisions about it.”_

_“What’s **she** know about this outpost? She’s never been here.”_

_“Gods, Brett, how’d a coward like you end up in the Resistance?”_

A punch was thrown, and the third man struggled to keep the other two apart.

_“Hey, hey! Stop it! We can’t be doing this shit, not now. We’ve got to stay cool because they’re counting on us. What if information on the missing droid comes up, huh? We could help save the galaxy if they find it, that’s what the General said.”_ He gave them both a small shove. _“So fucking cool it. The relay transmitter is staying up, and we’re to keep it up and running and protected. Got it?”_

_“Yeah, Captain. Sure thing.”_

_“Brett?”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Good. Any news on the streets about the guys at Fov’s?”_

_“No, but we’re keeping an eye out—“_

The conversation meandered through topics both inconsequential and worthwhile—mentioning _that woman_ no more, thankfully— but Kylo knew the information they most needed was already theirs. The Resistance was using Phu as a sort of telecommunications modem, probably to keep their positions hidden. It was harder to trail a ship transmission and find the source if the location was scrambled through a planet-side double-encryptor. 

_Fuck,_ it was going to be even more difficult—nearly impossible, even—to find the Resistance base now…

…Unless they could find the tower here on Phu and attach their own relay transmitter. They could use it to copy the transmissions and have them sent to the _Finalizer_ for decryption. 

They could gain more top secret information than any spy could ever gather. This could be the big break they needed to finally root out the Rebel scum and eradicate them for good. This might just put Kylo back into Supreme Leader Snoke’s good graces, a penance for his past failures. 

Kylo turned to Cseenan.

“We need to get to one of those men and find out where the transmitter tower is.”

The Knight nodded, his amber eyes darkening. 

“Let’s call Blue.”

* * *

  
It didn’t take long for Tomaxx to find their location and join them, and he listened silently as they filled him in on the conversation they’d heard. 

“Do you think all of them know where it is?” He asked. 

Kylo shook his head. “Not sure. Seems like the blond one might, though.”

“And so we should scan him for intel on it,” Tomaxx said, more of a statement than a question, but Kylo nodded just the same. 

“Yes. But we have to be extremely careful; they cannot suspect anything or they will find out we know about the transmitter and destroy it. We need to get to it and plant a duplicator without them finding out.”

Both Knights gave curt nods. 

“Yes, Master.”

They all froze when they heard the door to the caf mill open, hushed voices echoing in the empty streets. Kylo peeked over the edge of the roof and saw the three men split up, each going their own way, but his eyes were set on the blond. 

Kylo ducked back down again, turning to Cseenan. 

“Have the probe follow him. We’ll track him and try to grab him later, when it’s darker.”

The Knight nodded, bringing up the remote communicator for the little spy. He murmured the command into it, and a moment later they saw the small bot whir down the street, going the way the rebel had.

With the tracker set, Kylo knew that now they needed to plan, and they needed to be _meticulous._

They could not fail this. It was bigger than the droid, bigger than the map. This could mean forever being one step ahead of the Resistance. 

This could mean ultimate victory for the First Order, but more importantly, it could mean absolution for Kylo and the Knights of Ren. 

* * *

  
They tracked the blond throughout the day, following him as discreetly as possible throughout the city with aid of the small probe. He evidently worked in one of the casinos, although he wasn’t front-of-the-house staff. Once he disappeared into the employee entrance, they did not see him until after dark, but that served them just fine. It would be easier to follow him and grab him under the protection of night. 

Kylo spent the time waiting on edge in agony, the jittering energy from before transformed into fiery anticipation. They were so close, _so close_ , to gaining the upper hand. 

More than once Tomaxx quietly pointed out that his pacing was going to draw attention, and more than once Kylo was cowed back into stillness, meditating and searching for balance. But it was difficult. The alarming presence against his mind from earlier was gnawing at him to send a comm to the _Finalizer_ to ask about Girl, but the idea that she had somehow reached out to him through the galaxy when she was so untrained was almost as impossible as her having somehow acquired a ship and followed him here in person. 

But he didn’t know how to explain it otherwise.

_Although,_ she had sensed him when he had been dying from Snoke’s punishment, and she had reached out to him while in her coma. Could she have also done this today? From such a distance?

What the fuck was this? Some sort of side effect of her slave wheedling? Had she somehow embedded herself in his psyche, and was that why she was able to connect to him like this?

Kylo felt a lead weight in his stomach, his chest tightening. Either she had no idea what she was doing, or she was doing this on purpose, to weaken him, to manipulate him. 

He would _not_ be manipulated.

Even if she was unknowingly using the Force to try and influence him like Tomaxx had suggested, that she was somehow able to reach out to him from the _Finalizer_ for whatever reason—nefarious or otherwise—made her dangerous.

More and more Kylo was beginning to see the wisdom in Snoke’s command to cut her off. He would confront her when they got back and find out if she was knowingly doing all of this. It had to stop.

Kylo knew his restlessness was beginning to make his Knights edgy as well, so he tried harder to settle himself, but once the blond rebel exited the employee door he was back to being filled with anticipatory tension. 

The chase was resumed, but this time they would not just be tracking him. This time they would trap him. 

The difference between the blond man and the others the Knights had thus far ‘interrogated’ was that the rebel was much more resistant to Tomaxx’s mental herding. It seemed he was too used to his usual routine, too used to being wary of his surroundings. It was going to be tricky to pin him down somewhere private. If he ended up making it back to his home—where there may be more people waiting for him—they would have to wait for a chance tomorrow. 

But they didn’t have that kind of time. They needed to start planning how to infiltrate the tower tonight so they could execute it tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow they had to leave. 

So they had to get him _tonight._

Kylo sighed gruffly. If Girl was here they could set up some sort of trap with her as the bait, but she wasn’t here. 

Or was she?

_No, you idiot,_ Kylo thought with a self-reprimanding scowl. _She’s not here. She’s on the **Finalizer,** and stop fucking thinking about her. _

_Focus._

Tomaxx continued to try and nudge the rebel further into the shadows, but Kylo could tell he was becoming slightly frustrated. It was careful work what he was doing, and the temptation to send louder nudges was always there. But anything too loud would immediately arouse suspicions. They needed the rebel to stay vulnerable and unaware of the influence.

Cseenan had disappeared from sight, but Kylo knew he was nearby from his senses. He had a feeling the Knight was planning something but he wasn’t sure what, and it was too risky to speak on the comms. 

Just when it seemed like the blond was going to take a path that would empty into a much busier street, the Barabel appeared from a side alley as the man walked past. Cseenan grabbed his arm, prompting the man to flinch and recoil with a rough shake, and both Kylo and Tomaxx froze in their positions. 

But Cseenan did not grapple with the man. He actually allowed him to pull away, and then merely implored with his clawed hands, pointing down the alleyway silently. He had as pleading a look as he could muster, which wasn’t saying much, but it was apparently good enough acting to fool the rebel. 

Another bleeding heart, it seemed.

The blond looked around for anyone else to help, but everyone nearby was too busy in their step, too used to looking the other way. Kylo could see when he decided to go alone, and as soon as the man began to follow the Knight into the alley, Kylo and Tomaxx quickly moved into place on instinct.   
  
Kylo slipped into an alley a block down and moved swiftly through the turns, pursuing them with help of his small holomap, until he came around a corner to see the blond man crouching by an unconscious Phuii on the ground, Cseenan standing beside him. 

“Did you see what happened to him, Silent One?” Kylo heard the man ask, his voice trailing off as he lifted the creature’s robe to see it’s stomach in bloody ribbons. 

He was on his feet with a blaster in hand in the next instant, a single shot aimed at Cseenan that would have dropped any normal person, but the Barabel’s hard scales would not be penetrated. He was thrown back by the blast, but Kylo did not stop to worry about him as he stormed onto the scene, freezing the man as he turned to shoot again. 

The blond grunted, his arm swinging down to his side, his body shivering with tension as he fought against the hold. Dread poured from him in waves as he looked between the two dark lords and put two and two together. 

“Y-you’re—“

Kylo couldn’t help adding a bit of nerve pain, gritting his teeth behind his mask in cruel enjoyment as the man gave a guttural cry, cutting off his words.

There was a flash of a younger face in similar pain in his mind, but he ignored it. 

Cseenan growled as he righted himself, his eyes black and claws clicking at his side. He paced, pulling off his leather muzzle, drool dripping from sharp teeth, gaze fixed on the frozen man. Tomaxx appeared a few moments later, his mask tilting as he took in the situation.

“Someone heard the shot, but I sent them away,” he said. “However I do recommend we be quick.”

Kylo nodded. “Do it, then.”

Cseenan gave a low snarl. “And don’t be nice.”

The Chiss stepped up, his hand already rising. 

“I didn’t plan to be,” he murmured, and they all watched as the bound man trembled anew at the sudden mental invasion. 

“Now, Rebel scum,” Kylo growled, “you’ll tell us about the transmission tower…”

If there was a muffled scream of pain heard by anyone near that alley, it was dutifully ignored in the same way as the blaster shot. There were gangs and criminals and evildoers afoot in these parts, you see. 

Best not to hear anything you weren’t willing to die for. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle with me guys, with how my brain has been lately this chapter was a doozy to write. I did my best though 😭🙌 
> 
> Now we know what the wall is 👀✨ Any other interesting things pop out at you this chapter? 
> 
> Next Sunday is the official one year anniversary for Chains!! It's absolutely crazy to think about how much I've written in a year. I feel like I should have some sort of celebration or something. Maybe I'll actually take myself out to eat (safely) and splurge on dinner somewhere 😭✨ 
> 
> Next chapter: The fourth day turns out much differently than anyone had imagined.   
> Posting Date: Sunday, January 24th at 9PM
> 
> [✨Here are the links to my Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, official Spotify playlist, etc.!✨](https://www.linktr.ee/veggieheist)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com 
> 
> [✨Chains FAQ page✨](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797539)


	71. The Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Happy One Year Anniversary!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🚨TW: Graphic depictions of violence🚨

* * *

Rey was lying sideways on the couch with her datapad, her legs propped up on the arm with feet dangling, when she gave an excited gasp.

“Ah! Finally!” She cried as she typed in the answer. She’d been working on this puzzle since before breakfast this morning, and more than once she’d wanted to throw the datapad across the room in frustration. Now the screen flashing with her correct answer brought on a wave of victorious self-satisfaction in the slave, and she swung her legs down and stood with a smile.

She left the device on the couch and reached up to stretch, relishing in the slight burn of her muscles, although she became slightly annoyed when doing so left her somewhat out of breath. She had grown stronger in the past three days but she still had a ways to go it seemed. Still, in spite of the shortness of breath and soreness in her legs, she was looking forward to walking more today. Maybe she’d be strong enough to go for an hour tomorrow without stopping.

The smile slipped from her face as her heart tightened with a small surge of adrenaline. _Lord Ren is coming back tomorrow._

She was both excited and nervous at the thought. He had talked about the week away being a sort of reset for all of them, but a part of Rey wondered what sort of reset it would be for him and the Knights. Would things be better, or would he come back just as prone to violent anger towards her as before the duel?

Did she build up her wall enough, or would he punish her for still being too loud? In either case, she hoped he would at least still help her with the other method, whatever that was. She was willing to try anything to not be a bother to him anymore.

Rey decided to continue with her meditation for the little time she had left until FX-8 would come with her luncheon cup. It couldn’t hurt to keep fortifying her wall, no matter how scraggly and haphazard it was.

Anything was better than nothing, because it meant proving to her master that she was worth all his trouble.

She avoided even looking at the far-off ice wall, so murky now from the distance and darkness, but Rey couldn’t help to peek skyward at the now much closer storm. It was practically over her part of the sandy white desert now. Gone were the warm beams of sunlight; there was only the shadow of heavy clouds, and a stronger wind blowing about her.

She turned to see her dune, satisfied that it didn’t seem like much red sand was being carried away anymore, but every now and then there were still puffs of crimson in the air. It was all the more reason to keep building, to keep strengthening the wall. She didn’t know what the storm meant, but she hoped the lightning wouldn’t strike here. She didn’t like it, almost as much as she didn’t like the ice wall.

When the medidroid arrived, Rey blinked back into her body with much less shock compared to yesterday. The droid looked down at her and electronically scolded her for being on the floor again, and Rey sighed in begrudging amusement as she rose to sit on the couch and take her cup with another probiotic.

After imbibing in ponderous silence for a few minutes, Rey shifted in her seat.

“FX-8,” she called. The droid’s photosensor pivoted to look at her, and she continued, “Have there been any comms from Lord Ren and the Knights?”

<I do not know> the droid beeped. <I am not a comms droid. Those transmissions do not run through my systems>

Rey took another two sips, a worry line between her brows.

“Is,” she started hesitantly, almost feeling compelled to go sit at the Table in order to ask this: “Is it something you might be able to look up for me? Maybe?”

The droid whirred quietly for a moment.

<I have sent an inquiry>

Rey blinked. “Oh, thank you. I didn’t expect—“

<I have received a reply> he beeped, interrupting her. <There have not been any transmissions from Lord Ren or his Knights>

It took Rey a second to process the droid’s words, not having expected to hear any news back so quickly. She felt herself deflate slightly, disappointed for some reason.

“I see. Thank you for trying.”

<I can contact Captain Greev about possibly sending a comm to Lord Ren and his Knights if you would like>

“No, no,” Rey quickly rejected, shaking her head for good measure. “No need to involve the captain. I’m sure he’s alright.”

She absolutely did not want to involve the medic. Rey had a feeling the woman would somehow turn the situation into a way to get Rey punished.

And as much as she wanted to know how the mission was going, she also didn’t want to accidentally do anything to jeopardize it. Lord Ren had told her that they would be on a communications blackout, so she shouldn’t be surprised that there were no comms. There was only one more day left until he returned. She should be patient.

Rey suddenly felt the return of the jitteriness in her chest, a hint at the electric restlessness she’d felt last night—and had battled with in her sleep, tossing and turning many times while plagued by strange dreams—and picked her datapad back up quickly. She did not like this strange feeling, this electric energy. The only thing that seemed to hold it at bay was to distract herself with the mind puzzles, although she was getting to the point where that was not working much either.

Maybe walking would help. She would move faster today, maybe even try to jog, and perhaps that would help burn off some of the jitteriness.

Her skin prickled with static, and when she went to hand the cup back to FX-8 she flinched from a small shock at the contact.

This actual electricity in and around her was the other problem. She was beginning to wonder if there was a loose wire somewhere in the construction of the room, and it was filling the air with humming energy. She worried for the medidroid in that case; if he accidentally touched the wrong spot of durasteel he could get fried.

Technically Rey should be worried about electrocuting herself as well, but she’d survived her fair share of electrocutions so far in her life. If something was loose in here she’d survive it too, probably.

Rey turned to the droid. “Do you feel anything strange in the air here? Any unnatural electric current?”

FX-8 sat still for a moment before answering, <No. My sensors do not pick up anything out of the ordinary>

“Hmm,” she hummed in consternation. “It’s so strange, but I can feel something staticky in the air. Maybe it’s just me.”

<Maybe>

It probably was. She was probably just imagining things, or it was probably a symptom of her uncontrollable Force powers. Maybe the ice wall in her mind caused her to become like a lightning rod. Rey looked at the droid in concern again. What if she accidentally damaged him? Or any other electronics in the rooms?

_No, you’re being stupid_ , she thought. _You’re just restless because Master is coming back tomorrow. Stop making mountains out of molehills._

<Do you want to walk in the corridors again today?> the droid asked her.

“Yes, please,” Rey said as she stood and stretched again, feeling bold. “Let’s try for an hour this time.”

* * *

  
〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

The ion welder in Kylo’s grasp sparked as he fixed the last of the bolts onto the duplicator. He’d been working on it almost non-stop since waking up before dawn, trying to get it finished so they could attach it to the Resistance transmission tower today.

They needed to make sure it worked before they could leave the planet. Once they knew for sure that information was being duplicated and rerouted they would pack up and leave.

It had to work. They could not leave empty-handed, but they could not leave late either.

“Is it finished now, Master?” Tomaxx asked from where he and Cseenan were organizing the tools he would need to attach it.

“Yes,” Kylo said, removing his eye protection while sitting back with a sigh and a wince.

Last night they’d found the transmission tower location from the blond rebel’s mind easily, his mental defenses like curtains--easily pulled back in spite of his attempts to keep them closed. It took mere minutes for Tomaxx to find the location—among a clutter of towers and satellite dishes near the warehouse district—and then he spent another five minutes doing as thorough a wipe as possible when they determined the rebel knew nothing else of use about the Resistance.

_“It might not take,”_ the Chiss said after finishing. _“He’s trained to remember people who are out of place.”_

_“Should we kill him then?”_ Cseenan asked, already salivating.

_“We can’t,”_ Kylo replied. _“That will definitely tip them off.”_

They had quieted, considering what to do, and then Kylo looked up.

_“I have an idea.”_

Which is how the blond rebel had ended up with a bottle of something strongly alcoholic, meandering the alleyway back towards his home. **_“You want to drink all of this,”_** Kylo had told him, voice heavy with the Force.

Whatever was left over to remember would be disjointed from the effects of the drink before morning.

Afterwards they’d gotten rid of the Phuii corpse and headed back to the ship to plan. After only a couple hours of sleep where Kylo had strange dreams about deserts and lightning, his body plagued once more by the electric restlessness from before, he had finally gotten out of bed to begin work on the duplicator.

And now, many hours later, he was finally done.

“Are the tools ready?” He asked his Knights as he stood to stretch out his muscles, rolling his shoulders and arching his back to a satisfying crack.

“Yes, Master,” Cseenan rasped.

“Are you sure we can’t help?” Tomaxx asked as he and the Barabel began to pack the tools into a small satchel.

Kylo gave him a dry look. “I am fully capable of doing it myself, Tomaxx Ren.”

The Knight nodded demurely. “Of course, Master, I wasn’t implying anything about your mechanical skills. I’m merely offering assistance to get the job done faster.”

Kylo looked away and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to let out his unnecessary indignation with it. Tomaxx wasn’t second-guessing his abilities. He was just trying to help.

“I need you two keeping watch,” he said, more settled. “We cannot have any of them catching me while I attach it, and we don’t know if there are more rebels stationed here than just the three.”

“We got it, Master,” Cseenan replied with a nod. “No rebels will catch you.”

Tomaxx echoed the nod and then the three of them finished readying everything.

The plan was for Cseenan and Tomaxx to head towards the transmission tower and scan the area for activity, then comm Kylo to let him know it was safe to climb the building and begin his work attaching the duplicator.

It would have been much safer to do all of this at night, but Kylo did not want to wait. Besides, there were heavy clouds rolling in above the city, warning of a possible storm today. The rain would be a small nuisance for his work but a great boon in masking the activity from wandering eyes and ears.

They put on their masks and hoods and headed out, the lack of sun doing nothing to cool things, the muggy air heavy and charged from the roiling clouds above. Perhaps it was the encroaching storm that was causing Kylo to still feel so restless now, having decided that whatever thing he’d felt brushing against his mind yesterday must have been a figment of his imagination and/or a hallucination from the heat. It was impossible for Girl to have reached out to him like that, even in spite of what she’d experienced from him before, and if she’d left the ship and come here in person he would have been informed.

The jitteriness he felt now was just nerves, probably. This mission was more important now than ever, and he was anxious to get it done the right way, and in time.

His heart pounded, the blood in his veins pumping hot and his whole body thrumming again with the electric energy from before, but this time he didn’t try to quell it. This time he would need it to help sharpen his senses and mind for what lay ahead. It should be relatively uncomplicated to attach the duplicator, but since they only had a cursory idea of what the transmission tower looked like, it may be more complicated a task should the tower not have a well-hidden place for him to attach the device. It couldn’t be easily visible because if the rebels came by to check on the tower they could find it.

And they couldn’t have that.

The duplicator itself was not very large—it was certainly smaller than the loth cat he’d held yesterday—and it gave the appearance of being a somewhat ugly mishmash of chips and wires and datapad parts. But it was powerful enough to take any transmission from any particular source, simultaneously read it and duplicate it onto its drive, and then send the duplicate to a particular receiver, which in this case would be the _Finalizer._

Kylo may not have the mental foraging skills of Tomaxx or the hunting capabilities of Cseenan, but he knew mechanics. He would not have been able to design his TIE Silencer otherwise—although that the production of it was apparently still ongoing was very frustrating. Considering his luck, it was probably halted the same way the droid unit had been. He’d have to check on its progress when he got back; with everything going on it had almost completely slipped his mind.

The three males split up to head to the tower location separately, Kylo allowing his Knights a head start so they’d have time to scan the area before he arrived. He walked at first, and then took a speeder taxi to a spot that was, according to his holomap, a fifteen minute walk from the towers.

<Are you sure you want to get off here, sir?> the taxi bot asked as Kylo handed over the credits. <This area of the city is notoriously dangerous for tourists>

“I’m not a tourist,” Kylo said in reply, then hopped out, his bag laden with tools clinking against his side.

The area was quite run down. The paved road was cracked and pockmarked with potholes, the ground littered with trash and broken things. The buildings appeared greenish black in places where mold had apparently begun to take over, and the few people and creatures milling about were living renditions of the dilapidated buildings within which they lived and worked. Kylo could hear a baby crying from somewhere, a haunting echo through the winding street, and an angry voice screaming something unintelligible was met by a shrieking reply.

It was a far cry from the shining, mostly-clean area around the casinos and market streets for sure. Most of the people here probably worked in the warehouses nearby, or were otherwise servants and slaves to the local moneyed populace.

Kylo shook himself from his thoughts and checked his holomap before beginning to walk. More than once he could feel eyes on him in the gloom of the narrow streets, the Feeling compounding the rising jitteriness within him. There was a static electricity to the air, making his skin prickle, and he once again felt the need to run or fight—anything to push this tension out of his body.

The streets were quiet, dampened by the dark clouds threatening rain above, but there was also a feeling of suspense for what would likely be a very bad storm.

Whatever it was causing him to feel like this—be it the storm, the mission, or what—Kylo hoped it would just happen already. He was crawling out of his skin, and he absolutely hated it.

* * *

〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

  
After almost an hour of walking the level, Rey was panting, sweating, and her legs felt like jelly, but her heart was a strong beat in her chest urging her to keep going. She was determined to get to exactly an hour, and then she would allow herself the rest of the evening to relax in the rooms with her datapad.

She was also feeling strangely energized in spite of the strain in her legs. It was like the feeling from yesterday after she’d touched the ice wall—too much need to move, too much energy making her want to crawl out of her skin. It had made her pick up her pace more than once, desperate to burn it off and make it go away, somewhat afraid that it was coming from the Force powers inside of her and she was going to lose control in front of the medidroid somehow.

But even though it felt similar, she knew it wasn’t that.

The air felt alive with static, and Rey eyed the droid for any sign he could detect it. But he remained quiet as they moved down another corridor, apparently none the wiser.

_It’s so strange_ , she thought with a frown. _Why am I sensing this? What’s wrong with me?_

Wanting to further distract herself, Rey thought of a question to ask. She’d been asking FX-8 more questions today, although they were mostly about hypothetical situations. It was interesting to her how droids answered them, because their programming spoke a lot about the ones who programmed them.

“If you had to choose between saving one person, or saving three people, what would you do?”

The droid thought for just a second before replying, <I would save three people. Because it is always better to save more people>

Rey nodded. “True, but what if saving those three people meant one person died? Would you still do it?”

<Death is inevitable, but it is still important to my programming to save as many people as I can. Three people at the cost of one is a favorable outcome>

“If death is inevitable, then why save anyone at all? You’re just putting off what’s already going to happen anyways.”

The droid was quiet for a longer moment, his mechanics whirring softly as they moved. Rey worried she may have accidentally caused him to get stuck in a logic loop and began to stop to ask if he needed her to reboot him, but he answered.

<Death happens for all creatures, but it is important to continue to live for as long as possible. My programming forces me to do what is necessary to keep my systems running, unless I am ordered to do otherwise. In regards to the care of humans, my programming directs me to work to save a life unless the statistical likelihood of recovery is less than sixty percent>

_“Sixty_ percent?” Rey parroted, surprised. “Why so high?”

<Too low a percentage requires more effort and medical supplies than are allowed for each officer>

Rey did stop walking at that, aghast. “You mean First Order officers have a _quota_ of medical supplies they are allowed to use?”

<Yes. To keep supplies from running out, each officer is allowed only a specific number of medical items, depending on their station>

Rey’s eyes wandered the corridor as she thought.

“So the stormtroopers would receive more medical help because they’re probably put in danger more?”

<No, the command officers have the largest quota. The stormtroopers receive—>

Suddenly he cut off, and Rey took a step closer with a worried glance around.

“FX-8? Are you alright?”

The photosensor eye swiveled back to her after a tense breath, relieving her.

<My apologies. I have been recalled to the medbay. Do you need me to escort you back to Lord Ren’s rooms?>

Rey blinked, already shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure you’re needed right away. I can walk back by myself.” She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn’t be making the hour mark, but reasoned that she could spend the rest of the minutes doing circuits in the rooms instead.

<I will return with your dinner cup later> he told her, and then pivoted and made his way towards the nearest lift.

Rey watched him go for a moment and then continued on towards the corridor where the rooms were. She realized she should have accepted the escort because Lord Ren told her not to be out without the droid, but surely this would be fine. It was just a minute or two. It would be fine.

The distraction of her questions gone, Rey was once again acutely aware of the buzzing beneath her skin, in her chest. She took in a deep breath, hoping to help break up some of the tension in her ribs, and it helped a little, but really she just wanted to run.

_Bad idea,_ she thought. _FX-8 isn’t here to watch you. What if you faint? Stupid, bad idea._  
  
She shook her head with her internal chiding, but did pick up her pace slightly. She was close to the turn now, just a couple speederlengths left—

The air fizzled, her skin prickling and causing her hair to stand on end, and she stopped, her heart thundering in her chest.

There had been something, a flicker of movement in the corridor ahead of her, ahead of the turn.

Rey blinked and searched, but saw nothing.

Maybe she needed to rest. She was starting to see thi—

Another flash of static shot through the air, through her, making her jolt as if she’d touched a live wire, and there was another flicker in the air ahead of her. This time it was like a heat mirage, except there was no sun or heat of any kind on this ship, so what was it?

Was she going insane again?

Rey looked down at the floor, blinking rapidly and shaking her head.

“No, no, no, no, you’re not seeing anything, you’re just tired, and you’ve been walking a lot, and….” She looked up, and the air crackled and the mirage took on a shape that almost looked like a tall figure, and then it was _moving towards her_ , and Rey turned and _ran._

* * *

  
〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

  
  
Kylo knew something wasn’t right. The static in the air was not normal, nor was the prickling of his skin. It was almost as if someone had an EMP going off nearby, but the stuffy silence of his surroundings was evidence that no such thing was happening.

He stopped in his tracks when the first jolt went through him. He checked his satchel to make sure the duplicator wasn’t short-circuiting for some reason, but it was fine. No, this sudden electricity in the air and in his chest wasn’t coming from any normal mechanical source.

It was coming from the Force.

But why? And how was it related to the strange thing he’d felt yesterday?

He really must be going mad from the heat here if he was—

Kylo’s entire body froze as his gaze caught on something flickering in the air, just some speederlengths ahead of him. Was it another vision from the Force? Another ghost, perhaps?

He waited, not moving an inch, barely letting himself breathe for fear of scaring off whatever it was before it could make itself known.

There was another _zing!_ in the air, throughout Kylo’s body, and the blurry vision solidified into a more human-like form—although it was still just a smear of colors with no rhyme or reason.

Perhaps if he got closer to it, he would see what it was meant to be. The thought brought him to begin walking forward, but after only a couple of steps the warping vision bolted, and immediately Kylo began to run after it.

* * *

  
〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

Rey ran down the corridor and nearly tripped as she skidded around a corner, pressing herself against the wall as she wheezed for air. Her heart was thundering in her chest and it was _painful,_ and there were black spots forming in her vision but she crouched down and tried to breathe, to will herself not to faint. Not now. Not with the dark thing following her.

Once she was sure she wouldn’t pass out, she crept forward to the corner, a hand over her mouth to try and stifle the sound of her heavy breathing and tiny whimpers of fear. She peered around the corner slowly and then jerked back as the dark thing flew past and then _….disappeared._

She sat shaking for a long moment, and then scrambled to her feet. Whatever it was might come back, and she wanted to get back to Lord Ren’s rooms before it did. She’d be safe there. The rooms were safe.

She was afraid to run but even more afraid to walk, so she settled on a half walk, half jog, constantly peeking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. It was this lapse in attention to where she was going that resulted in her turning the corner and running right into the ugly officer from yesterday.

Her forearms ached in his vice-like grip as he caught her, his big nose flaring as his eyes widened, taking in his catch.

“Well, look who’s out and about alone.”

* * *

  
〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

The vision was only a couple arm lengths ahead when it suddenly disappeared, fading from the air like ink in water. Kylo searched around him, sprinting to the next corner, scanning the alleyway but opting to go over what looked to be a bridge over a sewer canal instead.

He was way off course now, and he knew his Knights would be comming him soon to ask where he was, but the duplicator didn’t matter in this moment. The Force was trying to show him something and he needed to follow it. What if it ended up being something like what happened with the slave boy, Petr? This could help them.

But as soon as Kylo stepped onto the bridge, his senses flared with _bad, dangerous, look out,_ and he ducked just as something that looked like a taser dart flew over and attached to one of the metal columns that ran along the rusty bridge, sending sparks into the air around it as it activated and promptly fried itself.

Kylo swiveled around, finding four rough looking males blocking one side of the bridge, and three on the other.

“You lost, buddy?”

* * *

〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

Rey struggled in the officer’s hold, trying to push away from him, her eyes darting around still, searching for the dark thing.

“Pl—“ she started to say, _please let me go_ , but she quickly shut her mouth because Lord Ren told her not to speak to anyone.

“Oh, so you _can_ speak?” The man said with a lighthearted laugh that was in direct juxtaposition to the hurtful way he was keeping her from escaping.

“Quite a squirmy little thing, aren’t you?” He added with a gleam in his eye that made Rey’s stomach clench with dread. She tried to wrench her arms from his hands but he was too strong, and she may be recovering but she was nowhere near the strength she’d had even at the auction.

But that didn’t mean she had lost her wits. Rey had gotten into dangerous situations with people far larger and stronger than her before, and she had learned how to get out of them.

Not wanting to give him any time to accost her further, Rey let her knees buckle, dropping her weight and forcing him to hold her up. He grunted with the sudden effort, his grip loosening slightly to adjust to the new position, and Rey immediately pushed down with one foot and catapulted her other knee straight into the officer’s groin.

The air left him in a cry-turned-groan, his hands dropping from her as he doubled over and held his stomach and privates.

Rey held herself back from spitting on him, already knowing that doing what she’d just done would garner swift and terrible punishment when her master got back and heard wind of it, and she didn’t want to make it worse, so she pushed away and ran, down the corridor, not looking back, ignoring the wheezing yell of, “I’ll have you thrashed to ribbons for this, you fucking Junk!”

She finally reached the rooms, her hands shaking so badly she almost couldn’t get her identichip into the slot to open the door, but once she was safely inside with the door hissing shut behind her, she staggered to the couch and desperately tried to calm herself, rubbing her sternum as if it would help soothe the piercing pain of her thundering heart. Her whole body tingled in flashes—on her knee, across her back, down her thigh—and she stifled a sob, so confused and shocked and overwhelmed from all the sensations.

But she was safe here. The rooms were safe. Nothing bad could get in. The officer certainly couldn’t get in. She would just wait out the rest of the time in here until—

Movement in the corner of her eye had her head jerking up, and Rey sucked in a gasping breath.

* * *

  
〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

Kylo remained silent, his eyes roving around to take in the assailants, judging them in a split second for their possible strengths and weaknesses. His hand drifted down to where his saber was hidden beneath his cloak, but he was wary of bringing it out. If someone saw, if someone recognized it, then he and the Knights could be exposed. The whole mission could be ruined if the Resistance even suspected they had been there.

He would have to try and fight without it.

So far he could see that only two of them had blasters. The other five were carrying various other weapons that ranged from a broken pipe to what looked like a curved vibro-blade. The blade would be the most dangerous, capable of cutting through basically anything, which meant he needed to keep an eye on it.

The seven figures slowly approached, stepping onto the bridge, blocking him in.

“We promise not to hurt ya, fella,” said the tallest of the bunch and the one holding the blade—a burly Quarren, probably the leader— “if you just drop yer bag and let us search ya. Real dangerous parts ‘round here, see, and we gotta make sure yer not here with bad intent.”

“Yeah,” jeered a scrappy Phuii by his side. “And there’s a bridge toll. Gotta pay up, or you might hafta swim home in the sewage.”

Kylo didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the Force vision, and he needed to get the duplicator installed. His anger rose, the electric tension in his body spurring on his connection to the Dark side of the Force, turning the air around him cold. He saw one of the closer vagabonds shiver and take a step back, wariness on his scaly face.

Kylo sneered beneath his mask.

“Every last one of you will die if you don’t let me pass unharmed.”

The group paused in its slow corralling, and the leader’s laugh brought a round of dark chuckles from the others.

The scaly one bared its sharp teeth.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that? You gonna call a magistrate? Gonna have your rich daddy send his guards after—“

Kylo didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, his fury turning him into a blur of brown and black as he lunged and grabbed the male, bringing his face down on Kylo’s rising knee. The scaly male’s stubby nose gave a crunch as the bones broke, blood pouring out as he was thrown backwards into the bodies behind him, knocking them down.

It was a flurry of shouts and movement after that.

Kylo blocked a downward swing from the pipe holder, grabbing his arm and spinning so that when the two men with blasters fired they hit their accomplice instead. Kylo threw the body at them and then charged after, using their momentary lapse to grab the wrist of one and twist it, resulting in a loud _snap_ and a scream of pain, the blaster dropping to the ground. Kylo threw a punch at the male’s throat, crushing it, and then kicked him away.

Immediately he picked up the blaster and shot the other blaster holder, kicking him in the chest for good measure and sending him screaming over the edge of the bridge to the mucky waters below, where his cries were swallowed as he was sucked into the drainage pipe.

Someone hit Kylo across the back just as he shot at the Quarren carrying the vibro-blade, throwing his aim off. The lord grit his teeth and ducked as he spun to jam the barrel of the blaster into the attacking Phuii’s stomach, doubling him over and allowing Kylo to bring the gun up to smash under his jaw, dislocating it and shattering teeth in the process.

Then he just managed to bring the gun up as a shield as the Quarren brought his vibro-blade down, slicing the gun in two and nearly taking off Kylo’s fingers with it. He jumped back from another swing, and then threw half of the ruined blaster at the last crony making a run at him, hitting him square the face and sending him down.

Another swipe from the Quarren grazed Kylo’s thigh as he tried to jump out of the way, creating a shallow but long and jagged cut, and making the man grunt in pain and stumble to his knee. His gritted teeth turned into a grin of malice behind his mask, though, as he pulled on the pain to give him strength, to give him speed, and he called the broken pipe to his hand with the Force as the Quarren gave a yell with a two-handed chop meant to cut Kylo in half. But then Kylo was thrusting upwards, spearing the unprotected stomach, freezing the Quarren’s motions mid-swing as the shock and pain overwhelmed him. Blood gushed out of his mouth, splattering Kylo, and he stood, taking the vibro-blade from the Quarren’s slackening grip and swinging it in a clean arc, bisecting the male at his middle. The torso slid from the abdomen and legs in a wet squelch of blood and viscera, more blood spurting from the body’s still beating heart.

Kylo straightened, panting, looking around at the carnage, and then he heard a gasp, and he turned to confront whatever goon was left, his arm rising to give another death blow, but he froze.

His heart stopped, the breath shuddering in his chest as electricity shot through him, through the entire area. The sounds of the sludgy water below died out, fading with his awareness of almost everything else around him because his whole focus was on the source of the gasp and, and _how could she—_

* * *

〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

  
  
Rey shook as the dark mirage solidified right before her eyes. The visage of what she assumed to be a male, very tall, very large, who was dressed in dark pants, a tan tunic, a brown cape, and some sort of mask/headgear apparatus, would have terrified her on a normal day, but the fact that he was _covered in blood_ and turning to face her fully with a weapon rising as if to add her blood to his wardrobe, made her give a small cry and reflexively bring her arms up in defense. She was stupid for even thinking she could stop him from killing her.

But he did stop. He even seemed to actually _jolt_ at the sight of her.

Rey’s entire body was trembling from fear and from the electric energy careening through and around her, and she watched in shock as the male’s arm lowered, his intent to kill staved off it seemed.  
  
They stared at each other, Rey the cornered prey, and the unnamed dark mirage-turned-solid male the tense predator, something like shock and confusion and lingering anger and pain ricocheting between them, and she didn’t understand why she could feel these things from him, why he felt so cold and dark like Lord Ren, why she was seeing him at all.

Was it a hallucination? A waking nightmare? Rey didn’t know, and she gasped for air as the silence stretched for another moment.

And then, he took a small, threatening step forward, his body tight with the sudden anger flashing in the staticky air.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he snarled, the mask making his voice distorted and choppy, a grating sound to her ears, and Rey could only whimper out a confused,

“W-what?”

before the male was wiped from existence, his sudden disappearance—along with the stuffy electricity in the air—making Rey flinch and blink, searching around her desperately for where he could have gone.

But he wasn’t here. Not anymore.

The hum of the ship returned, and Rey vaguely wondered when the sounds had gone out. She stood dazedly from the couch as if she was going to go somewhere.

_The ‘fresher_ , she thought in a blur. _Get to the—_

The black spots returned to her sight, and this time she could not fight them off. Rey tried to take another step and promptly collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

〜〜〜O*O〜〜〜

* * *

Kylo looked at where Girl had just been cowering, here, right in front of him. On Phu.

There was no doubt about it; it had been her. He thought he could still sense her warm light in the Force even. But it was impossible. She’d obviously disappeared far too quickly to have actually been here, and there was no way she’d projected herself through the Force on her own. The effort would kill her.

Was this some sort of omen? Was she in danger? Was he going the wrong way again?

But no, if that was the case the Force ghost boy would have appeared, right? But if this wasn’t an omen, then what was it?

Kylo’s comm beeped, and he lifted it without a thought.

“What?” He rasped.

_“Master, where are you?”_ Tomaxx asked. _“Your location is not on target.”_

Kylo took in another shuddering breath as his eyes searched once more the place where Girl had been, then roamed around the carnage site.

“I was attacked by a gang. I need the two of you at my current location immediately. We must get rid of the evidence.”

_“Yes, Master,”_ came the prompt reply. _“Three minutes.”_

Kylo nodded even though they couldn’t see him. He felt dazed, and he was distantly aware that he needed to be starting to clean up the mess, throwing the evidence into the churning sewer water below, but he couldn’t stop seeing Girl’s terrified face, her trembling _“W-what?”_ at his accusing question both crystal clear and an echoing blur in his ear. 

And above it all, he couldn’t stop wondering: _What the **fuck** was going on?_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. HOW'S THAT FOR AN ANNIVERSARY CHAPTER. I feel like it's very fitting that exactly one year from when I posted chapter 1, Rey and Kylo finally have a huge breakthrough with their Force Bond 👁👄👁 Y'all don't even know how long I've been waiting to write this chapter. (Which is why it was extra frustrating for me to have such trouble writing recently due to my mental health issues 😫)
> 
> Btw I added two songs to my Chains Spotify Playlist that are intended to go along with this chapter. For those that don't have Spotify, they are ["Bridged By A Lightwave"](https://youtu.be/2bPYEk_FGr0) by Deadmau5 and ["Rinzler"](https://youtu.be/E-OY8K3cEmI) by Daft Punk (from the TRON: Legacy soundtrack).  
> I actually updated the Spotify playlist a couple days ago, so for anyone who noticed I suppose it was sort of a teaser 👀
> 
> I don't want to write too long of a message here because I'm going to try and cut back on long authors notes this year, but I just wanted to say that this past year of writing Chains has been such a life changing thing for me. I've learned so much about myself, grown more confident in my writing style, and made so many awesome new friends through writing this story. Chains is written mostly for myself, but the love and support from you guys has made the rough writing days easier to bare, and I thank y'all for your kind comments and active readership, from the bottom of my heart ❤️😭❤️😭. [I've written a post about this on Tumblr](https://veggieheist.tumblr.com/post/641181898044047360/today-i-post-chapter-71-of-chains-and-it-is-such) and Twitter as well, but I honestly feel like there aren't enough words to convey just how much I appreciate you all and how excited I am for the future of this story. It truly is a wonderful thing.
> 
> A very special shout-out to my beta, Brad, for sticking with me for an entire year, through the ups and downs of it all. His support has been monumental for me, and it really was him being my hypeman three years ago that convinced me I even had any writing talent at all.  
> I'd also like to give a thank you to my new second beta/editor for her help on the past two chapters! She's been a big help, and I look forward to seeing how Chains grows into something even better this year with her added editing.
> 
> Here's to another year of Chains, guys! 🍾🥂✨😁✨❤️
> 
> Next chapter: Some fallout from the strange vision makes things a bit tense...  
> Posting date: Sunday, January 31st at 9PM Japan time
> 
> ## EDIT: New posting date is now Sunday, February 7th at 9PM JST. My mental health has taken an absolute nosedive and I just need some extra time. Thank you for your patience and understanding 😞🙏✨ 
> 
> [✨You can find the links to my various social medias (Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, Spotify, etc.) here! Come see my fanart or chat! 😁✨❤️](https://linktr.ee/veggieheist)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com 
> 
> [✨ Chains FAQ Page ✨](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797539)


	72. The Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings

* * *

Rey woke up on the floor of Lord Ren’s rooms, groggy and confused. She shivered as she pushed herself up, the coldness of her limbs and cheek telling her that she’d been there for a small while. Did she fall asleep while meditating again?

Her head throbbed, and her chest pounded irregularly as her blood pressure changed from the upright position. Black spots danced in her vision, and she clutched her head as she breathed through it. 

She felt like she got run over by a bantha. 

How did she end up on the floor? The last thing she remembered was being in the corridor with FX-8, but, no, he got called back to the medbay, and then Rey was alone and—

She gasped, sitting upright and looking around with wide eyes. 

The ugly officer is certainly a problem she’ll have to pay the consequences for later when her master returns, but the figure covered in blood was who she scanned the room for now. How long had she been unconscious? Did he come back? 

Was he even _real?_  
  
The memory of Nybian standing almost exactly where the bloody figure had stood came to Rey’s mind. She recalled how the old woman had spoken to her and then melted into blood and viscera right in front of her.

Rey exhaled a shaky breath, eyes closing. So she had hallucinated again. The bloody figure had been a hallucination. 

What the kriff was _wrong with her?_

Last time she’d been sick and half-mad from isolation, so her hallucinations had had a valid reason. But what had brought on the crazed vision this time? She was so much better now, she was eating and exercising and having more social interactions (with a droid, but it was better than nothing). So why had she seen the bloody figure?

Was she truly so sick, so mentally broken, that even in times of wellbeing she was to suffer these things?

Lord Ren deserved so much better than her. She really was the worst. How was she going to explain this? He told her to stay out of trouble, and the first chance she got she was alone in the corridor (against his orders), assaulting a First Order officer, and seeing twisted figments of her deranged imagination.

Had Ugly Officer even been truly doing her any harm? He had just been holding on to her. Maybe he thought she should apologize for running into him so suddenly. Maybe that’s what he had been waiting for, maybe if she’d just apologized he would have let her go. 

_Maker,_ she had _kneed him in the privates._ Rey’s heart sank into her stomach, making her slightly nauseous. She deserved a lashing for that. There was no way she wasn’t going to be punished for it. She was terrified of the consequences but she knew that telling Lord Ren as soon as he got back was best. Waiting for him to find out from the officer would just be prolonging the inevitable, and he might even take it as a form of lying somehow. 

Rey’s heart pounded in her chest, her whole body flush with a nervous sweat. What had been a normal, anxious anticipation for her master’s return was now tainted with dread and self-reproach. 

It seemed like no matter how hard she tried to do better, she was always messing things up somehow. 

Rey shakily got up from the floor and staggered to the couch, upset at the way just doing that made her breathless, and decided she would spend the rest of the day in the rooms. Partly as her own punishment for being so reckless, and partly because she was too afraid that she’d be met with security officers coming to take her away if she stepped outside again. 

She’d spend the evening doing mind puzzles and resting, perhaps even some meditation to work on the wall. Maybe if she built it strong enough, Lord Ren would be sufficiently pleased and would go easy on her. 

Maybe if she built it strong enough, she’d mend whatever broken parts of her were making her see such horrific hallucinations.

* * *

——-O*O-——

* * *

  
Kylo and Tomaxx hefted the last body over the side of the bridge, silently watching it disappear into the churning muck below. Sometime between the impossible sight of Girl somehow being right in front of him, and his Knights arriving at the scene less than five minutes later, the sky had decided to finally release it’s own pent-up energy, and without any warning the dark clouds had ripped open above the city, dousing it in a curtain of swampy rain. 

The downpour was helpful in washing away the bloody remains of the fight, but the loud chittering of the drops pounding on the metal roofs around them only reminded Kylo of the strange silence during the vision. The impossible vision. 

Now with the cleanup task finished, his mind went back to racing, his thoughts as staticky and electric as the feeling he’d had earlier, his gaze returning to where she’d been, his eyes searching as if she’d suddenly show up once more if only he’d look hard enough.

It didn’t make any sense. Why had he seen Girl? And why had it seemed like she could see him, her eyes wide with terror, her arms raised in defense? She hadn’t truly been here, right? It was impossible. 

_Impossible._

But he had felt her presence. There was no mistaking her small light, flickering warmly in the Force. 

Kylo glanced at Tomaxx and Cseenan, wondering if they’d felt it too, but then again they would have said something if they had. So had it all been in Kylo’s mind? Was he truly so obsessed? 

The thought made him cringe, and he was glad the mask was there to cover it, although Tomaxx’s head swiveled his way.

“Are you alright, Master? How’s your leg?”

Cseenan was examining the vibro-blade in his grip and looked over as well, his nostrils flaring as his eyes landed on the wound.

Kylo inspected the gash with a probing hand and a critical eye. It was bleeding and throbbing, and the rain was making it sting, but he would live. 

“It’s fine. Just needs bacta.”

Tomaxx nodded. “We can come back later. Let’s—“

“No,” Kylo said, standing straighter. His clothes were soaked through, his hood doing nothing to protect his head. He could feel drops of water running down the back of his neck beneath his mask. “We’re doing this now.”

“Master, your wound needs to be treated. That’s a lot of blood.”

“Most of it isn’t mine,” argued Kylo. “And I want to get this done as soon as possible. We’re sticking to the plan.”

Tomaxx sighed, the sound almost drowned out by the thunderous rain. “I didn’t bring any bacta supplies.”

Cseenan looked between the two of them and then, grasping the edge of his robes, he used the vibro-blade to cleanly cut a strip of cloth. He held it out to Kylo wordlessly, who took the dripping offering with a nod of thanks and began to wrap it tightly around his thigh. It burned like a fucker but he relished in the pain. It helped clear his mind somewhat. 

Tomaxx sighed again, crossing his arms. “Well it’s a good thing we have that salve back at the ship.”

Kylo finished tying off the ends with a quick jerk, watching dark blood already begin to soak through the damp blue.

“I’m surprised you don’t carry your apothecary with you,” he grumbled as he passed the Knight. “C’mon let’s go. I want to get it finished as soon as possible so we can make sure it works.”

If the Knights replied at all, it was lost in the storm, but Kylo didn’t care. He was getting it done now, with or without them.

It took about five minutes to get to where the transmission towers were, the cluster of them in all shapes and sizes built atop a short, but enormously wide, building. There must have been at least five hundred towers, maybe more, but there were three particularly large ones, and they knew that the one they needed to locate was near one of them.

The tower building was as worn down and rotting as the ghettos that crowded around it. There was a high wall erected between the squat structure and poorhouses, with electrified wire along the top to ward off any climbers. In his initial scan Cseenan had found a section where the wires had been cut that would serve as Kylo’s entry point, and it was there in a tight alley that they stood looking up.

Kylo judged the height to be just within his reach if he used the Force to help propel him in a jump, even with his leg wounded. The more pain he felt, the stronger he was. 

“Should we boost you, Master?” Cseenan rasped. 

“To help guide you, so the rain doesn't throw you off,” Tomaxx added. 

Kylo pretended to mull it over. His pride wanted to say no, but he also knew if he failed his jump or slipped because of the rain he would never hear the end of it from either of them, so he silently nodded. 

He made sure his side satchel was secure, and crouched into position. At his countdown he jumped and pushed off from the ground with the Force, and at the same time he could feel the cold pressure of his Knights’ guidance as they used their powers to help him. He sailed upward through the downpour and grabbed the top of the wall, his feet touching the side and using the inertia of his jump to propel him up the rest of the way until he was kneeling like a gargoyle on the ledge. His leg screamed from the position, but he grit his teeth and looked up, assessing the distance to the top of the building. 

It was a trickier jump because of the horizontal gap from the wall to the building, but it was a much shorter climb. He could easily make it. 

Kylo settled himself, adjusting his feet beneath him in small increments so he wouldn’t fall, and then once he was confident, he jumped. He reached up with both hands to grab the lip of the building’s roof, and suddenly found his right arm tingling with a familiar warning right before a cramp seized it. 

His right hand lost its grip and caused him to swing by his left, making him grunt from the sudden strain on his arm and shoulder. He willed his hand to stay firm until the cramp was done, pulling on the Force to aid him.

Kylo could sense alarm from his Knights, but they refrained from shouting. That would draw more attention, and they didn’t want that. 

His teeth grinding from his effort, Kylo tried to force his arm to move through the cramp, but it only grew worse. _I thought I was done with this shit,_ he thought, exasperated. Although, the last time this had happened had been during the duel with Cseenan, and he’d definitely strained his body the same way in the gang fight. Was this going to happen every time he did combat?

It had almost killed him then, and it was certainly not helping him now. If he fell, it would be a good fifty foot drop down. He could use the Force to cushion his fall but it would be jarring, and he still ran the risk of spraining or breaking his legs. 

The rain kept pouring as his left hand began to weaken, his body weighed down even more by the heavy storm. But just as he was sure his grip would fail, his right arm stopped seizing and he was able to finally reach up and reassert his hold with both hands.

He was strong enough to pull himself up at that point, with only a trace of the Force to help him. There was some burning in his muscles, some trembling from lack of use and exercise since his sickness and recovery, but he hoisted himself up. 

Once secure in his crouch he looked over the ledge and signaled to his watching Knights, who immediately nodded and split up to patrol for any unanticipated activity that would hinder Kylo’s work. 

The cluttered mess of pipes and thick cables connecting to the hundreds of spires and satellite dishes crammed together, mixed with the twilight-like darkness cast over everything by the worsening storm, made searching for the right tower difficult. When his visor began to fog up from the moisture, he finally yanked the entire mask off in his frustration, his wet hair sticking to his scalp and face. He pulled his hood up only to obscure his features, because it was doing fuck-all to keep him dry anymore.

He gave a great huff when he finally saw it: a relatively thin but tall spire with an oval dish blooming on top like a metal patchwork flower, its height and proximity to one of the three giant towers no doubt lending it priority airspace for transmissions. 

Kylo clambered his way to the base, which was wide enough to support several access hatches, each for a different frequency. The trick was finding the mainline connecting them all and attaching the duplicator to it in a way that wouldn’t stand out. 

He pried open one of the hatches, peering in with a penlight, cursing the heavy downpour for making this more difficult. The water would make working near the power source risky, but he was no stranger to the odd shock.

 _Not quite like the electricity from earlier, though,_ he thought, remembering the static, the jolts running through him leading up to—

**_Focus._ **

He shook his head of the unwanted thoughts and then made his way around the base, opening the hatches and making mental notes of the configuration of each one. There was one with enough space behind the main circuit board that his duplicator would fit without drawing notice, so he propped up the penlight inside to better illuminate his work space, mentally going through the checklist of things he would need to do. 

Kylo dug into his satchel for the device, and upon pulling it out his stomach dropped. He crouched to protect it from the rain and get a closer look.

There was no mistake. It was damaged.

The connector strip for the transmission booster—the thing that would actually _send the data_ —was snapped in half, probably from the fight. It was unfixable with the tools he had on him; it would require his workstation on the ship. But that would take more time. 

Time he didn’t have, if he wanted to keep his promise. 

Kylo checked to make sure that the duplicator chip and memory card were still intact, and breathed a tense exhale in relief when they were. At least it wasn’t a complete bust, but without the transmitter they would have to physically come back to Phu and download the information via the short-wave commlink that, miraculously, was also still intact. Originally the short-wave comm was what they were going to use to test the device by using its connection with the Knights’ ship to download the inaugural duplicated transmissions. 

Now it seemed that was going to have to be their modus operandi, unless Kylo called today off and fixed the transmitter chip. 

It was clearly the smarter thing to do, the right thing to do for his mission. They wouldn’t have to keep coming back, which might get them noticed eventually. He would be able to report the mission successful with surety and honesty. 

But. The promise—

_Stop being stupid, Kylo. The mission is more important than a damned promise to a slave girl. Call the Knights, tell them what happened, and come back with a working duplicator when it’s not pissing down rain._

Kylo nodded to himself, beginning to reach for his comm, but he stopped. How many times had Han Solo chosen to continue with a risky job because of the potential payout in spite of his promises to be back in a timely manner?

And what the _fuck_ was Kylo doing, not immediately checking up with the _Finalizer_ on Girl, having just somehow seen her right in front of him? He should comm Tomaxx and have him run back to the ship to send an inquiry. He should have done that as soon as the Knights met him at the bridge. 

What if something was wrong? What if she was in danger—

**_Stop_**. 

Kylo shook his head roughly. _Stop worrying. Stop thinking about her. She’s a kriffing slave, she’s on a ship that’s protected by Unknown space and 1,500 turbo lasers. Whatever you felt and saw was probably some sort of echoing residue of whatever mind-wheedling she’s been doing to you. **Focus.** Get this done now so you can get back to the Finalizer on time._  
  
Coming back to Phu to download the data would be safer for the _Finalizer,_ anyways. No doubt the traitor and the pilot had told the Resistance of the First Order, and no doubt they were searching for them. If any enemy scanners caught onto the transmission—as encrypted and hidden as it would be—the location of the Star Destroyer could be pinned. And then the fleet could be at risk.  
No, this was safer. This was better. 

Nodding to himself again, Kylo set his mind and lifted the commlink.

“Tomaxx, Cseenan,” he said. “There is a slight change in plan. With the possibility that they are monitoring the direction of communications, I’ve determined that the transmitter isn’t safe. The duplicator will be installed and will record the transmissions, but only to save on its data card. We can’t afford to let the fleet be detected.”

 _“Even with the duplicate transmissions being encrypted?”_ came Tomaxx’s reply, the rain a hissing filter making it difficult to hear. 

“They could still detect it. If the enemy finds out we are listening to their comms they will begin to send false information to throw us off, or they could follow the connection and find the ship,” Kylo contested. “We need to keep them in the dark for as long as possible.”

Cseenan’s muffled rasp joined the link: _“So we come back. How long?”_

Kylo thought for a moment. “The data card will be able to hold about ten days’ worth of transmissions, depending on how much they communicate.”

 _“So we have to come back every two weeks to download the duplicate packet?”_ Tomaxx asked. His vocomodulator was different but Kylo could still hear the frustration in his words. 

“Yes.”

 _“Understood, Master,”_ Cseenan said. _“But I’m not wearing this kriffing disguise again.”_

“It’s fine,” Kylo assured. “You won’t have to leave the ship.” He waited a beat and then stood, frowning. “Tomaxx?”

There was static for a moment, and then, _“Understood, Master.”_

Kylo gave a long sigh. This was for the best. This was safest. 

He put the commlink away, and then, wiping the rain from his eyes, Kylo picked up the duplicator and got to work.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The struggle has been real, y'all, but I _really_ appreciate you guys _so much_. Last weekend was _really bad_ but I'm doing better now, although I think I'm going to need two weeks to get the next chapter done. I seriously hate taking so long, but I think I need it 😞 
> 
> Anything interesting stand out this chapter? We're setting up for some stuff for sure 👀
> 
> Next Chapter: The fifth day. Rey hopes her master comes back as promised, and Kylo ties up loose ends on Phu.  
> Posting date: Sunday, February 21st at 9PM JST
> 
> (just realized next Sunday is Valentines Day. I hope everyone has a beautiful time, either with loved ones or with yourself! 🥰)
> 
> [You can find the links to my various social medias (Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, Spotify, etc.) here! I've recently drawn character sheets for Tomaxx, Cseenan, and Rey (Kylo is in progress!) and posted them to Instagram and Twitter. Come see my fanart or chat! 😁✨❤️ ](https://www.linktr.ee/veggieheist)  
> Email: veggieheist.art@gmail.com  
> [FAQ page](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797539)


	73. The Fifth Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whEEZE*
> 
> tw: some minor mind pillaging

* * *

Kylo was a silent shadow in the pouring rain and gloom of their fifth day on Phu, his hulking frame hidden in the alleyway behind the eatery. His focus was singularly on the side door, as it had been for most of the morning already. He was waiting for the slave boy to emerge; as soon as he did, the man would grab him.

Tomaxx and Cseenan were keeping an eye from the sanctuary tower, instructed to stay there unless Kylo needed backup for whatever reason. But he knew this was something he needed to do himself.

The deadly lords were dressed in disguises of darker colors this morning— still wearing masks, but ones that were lighter, more fabric than apparatus. It was partly to avoid having their other disguises recognized, and partly for Kylo because his clothes had been ruined by yesterday’s fight. The blood—the gang’s and his own—had stained the fabric, the tear in the pant leg too conspicuous. 

His leg was more or less fine now, having been patched up with Tomaxx’s salve and triage bacta when they had returned to the ship yesterday. It stung and throbbed when he moved or crouched—like now—but it was quickly becoming background noise. 

The Chiss had waited to question Kylo until after he’d descended from the tower building and they’d retreated, soaking wet, back to the ship to check the connection. 

_“Are you certain this is the best course of action, Master?”_ He’d finally asked. 

_“Even we are on a comms blackout, Tomaxx,”_ Kylo had argued back, _“And we are here, monitoring the transmissions. Who knows what could happen once we leave.”_

_“We’ve never been caught before, even when we have sent messages,”_ the Knight had said. _“We’ve only ever stayed on comms blackout as a precaution. We don’t know if it’s even necessary.”_

Kylo shook his head. _“Things are different now, with the traitor and pilot having stolen Hux’s shuttle. Who knows what sort of sensitive information they managed to scan before the system wiped itself. They are going to be on the lookout for anything suspicious or conspicuous around the sectors we have been in. This is for the best, for the safety of the fleet.”_

Cseenan had been peculiarly quiet, although Kylo suspected he was wary of rocking the boat so soon after they had finally mended things with their duel and subsequent talk.

Tomaxx had continued to look perturbed, a line between his dark brows, and Kylo had fixed him with a heavy look. 

_“I have a feeling, Tomaxx. This is the better thing to do. And since following gut instinct led us this far in the first place, and ignoring it almost caused this mission to fail altogether, I am inclined to trust the Force with this now.”_

At that the Chiss had looked away with a conceding sigh, nodding. 

_“I had better create a new set of IDs for the ship, then,”_ he’d quietly mused, moving to collect his datapad for the task. 

They’d spent the rest of the day monitoring the connection with the duplicator. The inaugural data dump was only a few hours’ worth of material, but it still took several more hours to decrypt, and their scanners did not pull up any of the keywords they had inputted. But Kylo knew that eventually there would be a transmission with information more valuable than all the credits in the galaxy. Information to help them find the map piece, or the Resistance base. 

Setting up and monitoring the duplicator link had taken up the day, but once they had settled in for sleep Kylo’s thoughts had once more turned to the vision he’d seen, and he had to grip his bracelet hard and hold himself still to keep from sending a transmission inquiring about Girl. If something had gone wrong, he would have been commed. That he hadn’t been contacted meant she was fine.

He told himself he would not think of her at all today until every last loose end on Phu was tied and he and the Knights were in hyperspace heading back. So far it was easy, because all he could think about while crouching in the rain was how much he fucking hated Phu. 

He hated the casinos, the wealthy tourists, the flourishing spice trade. And he especially hated the muggy heat, and now the rain. It was uncomfortable and sticky, like being in a sauna with no way out. Just constant heat and steam. 

However, the one good thing from the weather was the lack of witnesses that would usually be milling about. The street vendors were absent, perhaps leaving the city or planet altogether for greener pastures. The usual merchants and tourists were also gone, which left the streets eerily empty, save for the occasional hurrying servant. 

Kylo checked his chrono again for the umpteenth time, and shifted in his crouch impatiently. It was midday. Surely the boy would emerge at some point? If Kylo wasn’t able to grab him here he would have to try getting him in his home. Which, aside from pushing their departure out another day (which was unacceptable), exponentially increased the risk of being caught, and would undoubtedly create more collateral damage.  
  
But he needed to check the slave’s mind, to see what he knew, to see who he had told about the weird customers who ordered slergak and talked secrets. Best case scenario, the boy had kept his observations to himself and so wiping any memory of himself and the Knights would be enough. Worst case scenario, Kylo and the Knights would have to take out the slave family, and probably the owner as well. 

A strategic fire would do the trick, although the rain might hinder how much evidence was burned. If the bodies weren’t completely destroyed by the blaze it might be found that they died of other causes beforehand.

They didn’t want an investigation. 

They didn’t want that many bodies, either. 

A crack of lightning lit up the sky, the thundering sound echoing from the far mountains. The streak of light made Kylo flinch, the memory of Snoke’s punishment still fresh on his mind. He silently scolded himself for his weakness, clenching his fists and shaking the unwanted emotions from his mind, but every flash brought him back to the red throne room, to the pain. 

Kylo stood, agitated, his heart thundering, his skin prickling where the scars still pulled with the stretch of his skin. He wanted to pace his unease away but he needed to stay hidden. It was already suspicious that he was outside at all, hiding in an alley in the middle of a maelstrom.

He cursed under his breath, flexing and fisting his hands a few times before crouching again and training his gaze on the grimy wall across from him in order to try to clear his mind. If he let the sound of rain fill his hearing and only stared at the wall, he might be able to block out the lightning, and the weakness it inspired. 

The next time the sky lit up with a crash, he held himself still, only the minute twitch of his face any evidence that he was affected. 

Still, his heart thundered in reply. 

_I am the calm waters,_ he thought with a grimace, _I am stone, I am ice. Unfeeling, unaffected._

He repeated the mantra in his mind until it felt real, until he believed it. And it was at that time that the side door to the eatery hissed open, and the figure of the slave boy heaving a full bin of food waste was revealed. 

_Finally._  
  
Kylo tensed, shrinking back into the shadows more, eyeing the distance between himself and the waste dumpster. Once the boy dumped the bin he would strike. 

Petr looked up at the sky with an annoyed pout, and then with a puff of his cheeks he lifted the heavy bin and began to awkwardly waddle out into the alley. The top of the bin was nearly at his chest, so it was a wonder he was able to lift it at all, but he managed. He set it down to pant and adjust his grip, and then with a small grunt strained to get it moving again. 

Kylo wasn’t sure the kid would be able to lift it into the dumpster, but evidently it had a suspension arm. The boy moved the bin to it, and after a moment Kylo heard the whine of machinery, and then the bin slowly rose, being tipped over by the robot arm. After the load was dumped, the bin began to move back down, and it was right before it fully descended that the man bolted forward.

He grabbed the boy, easily lifting him and moving back into the shadows, his hand quickly moving to cover the sound of the boy’s cry of surprise and fear. Petr kicked and squirmed and screamed behind the hand, his elbows thumping sharply back into Kylo’s ribs and chest. They were not quite strong enough to knock the breath out of him but one strike did hit over the man’s scar, making him tense and squeeze his arms around the tiny boy, rendering him completely immobile.  
  
The slave whimpered in pain, panting and shaking, and Kylo relaxed a fraction.

_Quickly,_ he thought to himself, and immediately pushed out his senses, moving into the boy’s mind like wind through reeds. 

“What do you know about the rebels?” He murmured, and watched as the bits and pieces of memories popped up. The three rebel men, sitting at a table, talking lowly. Unaware of the eavesdropper, unaware of the shadow following them into the workshop district. An older woman telling Petr to leave it alone, a pointed look from a man over a meager dinner. The woman with the towel speaking quietly, a soft look on the blond man’s face as he listened. A symbol, etched into a lost arm plate. Excitement, adventure, curiosity— 

Kylo and the Knights, sitting at a table, talking lowly. Kylo with the loth cat. _“I’m looking for my friends.” “Don’t tell anyone—“_

The boy going back to the eatery, garnering a cuff on the head for his tardiness. But it was okay because the loth cat was safe, it was purring in his arms, and he knew it wouldn’t run away anymore because loths only purr when they think they’re safe so—

Kylo pulled from the boy’s mind, feeling as if he’d just come up for air after being submerged in thick water. 

Petr had kept his secret. The Knights wouldn’t have to kill anyone. 

Now that he was no longer paralyzed from the invasion, the boy began to squirm again, whimpering, and Kylo retightened his hold.

“Hush,” he quietly cajoled, and, hesitating only for a moment, pushed the Force into his words. _“You won’t remember this. It was just a scary daydream. You won’t remember the masked men well. They were boring. You’ll go back to work now.”_

The slave went slack, only moving his mouth in silent repetition, his words lost in the cacophony of rain.

Kylo released his hold completely, steadying the child as he wobbled on his feet, and then watched him stiffly walk back to the side door, pressing to open it, no doubt going to get yelled at for forgetting the bin and being completely soaked down to the bone.

No matter. What was important was that the Knights’ presence would remain a secret. 

Kylo stood, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, clenching his fists as another bolt of lightning crashed across the sky. 

With the slave boy taken care of, the loose ends were tied, which meant they could leave. If they could get packed up and ready quickly enough, they’d be back on the Finalizer by dinner, maybe right before night-cycle at the latest. 

Five days he had said, and five days it was. 

Kylo lifted the commlink.

“It’s done. He didn’t tell anyone, and he’s wiped now.”

_“Good news,”_ Cseenan rasped back. _“Now what?”_  
  
Kylo looked up at the shadows peering out of the tower. 

“Now we can leave.”

* * *

  
——O*O——

* * *

Rey sat on the couch, the datapad in her hands, her leg bouncing. It was after breakfast now— _two hours after_ , she thought with another glance at the chrono—and she had already showered, paced, meditated, and paced some more, redoing her hair buns twice already to make sure not a strand was out of place. She’d even searched around for something to clean, although the rooms were nearly spotless. She’d picked up some microscopic lint and dared to smooth out a small wrinkle in her master’s bedsheets, but other than that the suite was immaculate. 

She knew that there was still the rest of the day left, hours and hours of possibility, but she couldn’t help worrying: 

What if Lord Ren didn’t come back today?

What if he never came back?

Her fingers came up to hook around the necklace, feeling a bruise beginning to form on her neck vertebrae from the constant pressure of the action she’d done about five hundred times already. The metal was a reassurance she clung to, reminding herself for the millionth time that his bracelet was connected to it, that if he got lost she would be able to help the ship find him again. 

What if he didn’t want to be found, though? What if he found a way to remove the bracelet without her necklace?

Suddenly she remembered how, with the wave of a hand, he had released her bindings in the medbay. Could he do it with his bracelet? 

_Of course he could,_ she thought, her heart sinking. _He’s so powerful, he could probably rip the thing apart with his hand._ He dented the durasteel wall outside so easily, surely a little band of metal was nothing in comparison?

Had he already removed it? Was he already long gone?

Rey felt her face heat with humiliation, her fingers pulling harder on the necklace. The collar. 

She shuddered, her breathing coming fast. Collar. It was a collar, it was around her neck and she couldn’t take it off without her master, and he was probably laughing to himself right now because he tricked her into thinking he had to wear his bracelet, just to get her to put this thing on and—

The pain of the band digging into her nape was overshadowed by her blinding need to remove it, but when her grip slipped and her hand jumped forward, releasing the pressure, she felt it—the piercing, throbbing hurt. 

The pain helped clear her mind of the panic and disruptive thoughts, and she gasped with a hard wince, hissing as she reached back to shakily press her palm to her aching vertebrae. 

_Why am I so stupid,_ she thought. _Lord Ren told me the necklace wasn’t to humiliate me. He told me he was coming back and that this was for my safety. It’s coming off when he returns._

_He’s coming back today. He **promised.** _

Rey took in a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly, then did it again. _Breathe,_ she told herself, trying to imagine her master’s robotic cadence. _Breathe, Girl._

It would not do for Lord Ren to come back and find his slave in a frazzled state. She needed to calm down, she needed to be better. 

_No more of this freaking out,_ she scolded herself. _He’s either going to come back today or he’s not, and there’s nothing you can do about it either way. Just keep busy._

He had important things he was doing with his Knights. If they had to stay away in order to finish their mission, then that’s what would happen. She hoped he didn’t do anything to jeopardize his plans, just so he could keep his promise to her.

She wasn’t worth it. 

She should have told him before he left that he could take as long as he needed, that he had no obligation to promise her anything. She was a slave, her thoughts and opinions didn’t matter, and she would stay here and wait for him dutifully until he came back—whenever that ended up being. 

_You’re being needy_ , she grumbled to herself. _Stop that. Slaves don’t want things. They just accept what’s given to them. Stop being needy._

The thought sobered her and reminded her of her place. She was here to serve, not to be emotional. She knew how to be emotionless, she knew how to smother her feelings. 

_I am nothing, and I feel nothing._  
  
The mantra was almost soothing in its familiarity. So much had been happening lately that she’d almost lost sight of herself. No matter what, no matter Lord Ren’s promises to be less violent, no matter his talk of helping her with her powers, no matter his assurance that she wasn’t alone here now, Rey knew the truth: that she was nothing. If he continued to use his powers to torture her, she would take it. If he chose to never help her develop her powers further than what he had already taught her to shut her loud mind up, she would accept it. 

And if he never came back and she became property of the authorities on this ship she would be f—

Rey’s heart seized in her chest at the thought, but she shook her head and squeezed her hands hard enough to hurt. 

She’d be _fine._

And she was being ridiculous right now. She needed to distract herself better, because she was going to drive herself crazy by going down this mental spiral. And it was only two hours after breakfast. 

Rey thought about calling FX-8 and walking the corridors again, but she remembered the ugly officer and the bloody hallucination, and very soundly rejected the idea. She had probably exercised too much yesterday, and that’s why she saw what she saw. And the fear had influenced her to be so aggressive with the officer. 

_Kriff,_ she was going to have to atone for that. 

_Later,_ she told herself, breathing steadily to calm her racing heart. _I’ll atone for it later._

For now she will work on the next mind puzzle, and walk slowly around the rooms, and maybe try to fix up her mental wall more. It was difficult for her to concentrate enough to do it though, and the more the day carried on the more difficult it was going to be. But she had to do something. 

_Mind puzzles and walking it is, then_ , she thought morosely, and picked up the datapad once more to do just that.

* * *

  
——-O*O——-

* * *

Kylo clicked his belt around his middle and breathed out, tension releasing in his shoulders as the second to last piece of his usual dark ensemble encircled his waist. His black armor was back on, save for his helmet, and he was very much glad to be clean, dry, and dressed again. 

He shoved his other clothes into his duffle bag, securing it in the storage hold with the others, and then stepped into the cockpit where his Knights were also changed and beginning the startup sequence. 

Tomaxx looked up at him, his red eyes probing. 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t stay and investigate the Resistance members here more? We might learn something by reading the other two. There may be more on the planet we don’t know about.”

“We have done what needs to be done for now,” Kylo replied, moving to sit in the passenger chair, fixing the Chiss with a hard look. “If we uncover information that requires us to do more groundwork here, we will return and do it. But now it is important that we head back to the ship and figure out our next move.”

“Until we have to come back in ten days, right?” The Knight added. 

Cseenan spoke up with a rasp as he finished punching in their route, “Beats twiddling on the Star Destroyer, just doing trainings and readings. It’s good to move.” His voice reduced to a mutter. “And to get away from the fear-stink.” 

Kylo glanced at the back of the Barabel’s seat with a deep frown, and then he and Tomaxx shared a look. Things had gotten back to near-normal for the three of them, but once they returned to the _Finalizer_ they very well could end up right back where things had been, should Cseenan lose control of himself around Girl again. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Tomaxx murmured, turning back to the console.

Girl’s constant fear was a problem, one that grated even on Kylo’s senses and he wasn’t attuned to scents the way Cseenan was. The Knight had cleared his head on this mission but who knew what would happen when they got back. 

They would have to be on guard until a better solution was found. 

_Perhaps when she’s cut off from the Force, she won’t grate on his senses as much_ , Kylo thought, and sighed quietly, eyes closing. 

That was another thing. Of course he’d been thinking about it, but now that they were heading back it was time to stop thinking and time to actually _do it._

He reminded himself for the hundredth time that it needed to be done, especially since she was theoretically doing things through the Force that were a threat to him. He could forgive Girl pushing him physically with her powers, but manipulating him? Using his emotions against him?

No, he could not allow that anymore. Once she was unable to access her powers she would be safer, in more ways than one. And, Snoke’s command would finally be obeyed. 

Kylo opened his eyes as the main comm crackled to life with the port authority giving them the go-ahead to take off. Tomaxx gave a curt response, and the ship began to rise. 

Once they were out of the city airspace their speed picked up until they were in atmo, and then the blue faded into navy, and then into speckled black as they finally entered space. They checked the coordinates one last time, and then jumped to hyper-speed. 

_Just a few more hours,_ Kylo thought, settling into his seat. _Just a few more._

* * *

  
——O*O——

* * *

  
Rey was pacing when the door beeped. She jolted to a stop, adrenaline rushing, wondering if she’d somehow missed her master’s presence, but it was only FX-8 who appeared when the door opened. 

She gave a shaky exhale, hand pressed to her pounding chest, skin prickling from nervous sweat. This was the second time the droid had surprised her like this, the first being when he had brought her luncheon. No doubt he was here to deliver her dinner cup now. 

It was both a relief and a disappointment. 

<Here is your nutrimeal> the droid beeped as he rolled in, offering her the cup. Rey took it with a quiet thanks and went to sit to drink it, opting for the table this time. It would not be good for her to accidentally spill on the couch when her master could come back at any time. 

There was still time left, after all. The day cycle wasn’t over yet, and the night cycle had some hours to it as well before it switched to a new day. He could come after dinner, or even in the middle of the night. Rey had no idea, but she had hope. 

She settled in at the table, the droid silent at her side, and, after swallowing another probiotic, dutifully sipped at the thick drink while reading through more droid schematics on her datapad. Not all of the information was publicly available on the holonet because of patents, but Rey enjoyed imagining what the hidden configurations would be. She thought of the exercise as her own brand of mind puzzle, and wondered briefly if Lord Ren would find it interesting as well. 

_No, don’t be stupid,_ she scowled. _He has far more important things to think about. I’m sure the mind puzzles were child’s play to him. This sort of thing is not worth his time._

But oh, how she enjoyed it. She missed working on droids and building things. Maybe someday if she proved herself worthy, she’d ask if she could build Lord Ren his own personal droid, one that he could program and trust. She would do it in a heartbeat if he let her. 

It was probably never going to happen, though, because her master did not like droids, and especially did not like them in his rooms. Rey eyed FX-8 while she sipped and wondered if she should dismiss him early, or have him wait in the other room, because maybe he wasn’t supposed to be in here without a good reason, and watching her eat was probably not a good reason. 

“FX,” she started, “why don’t you—“

The words stuttered to a halt as the air suddenly compressed, squeezing her lungs with a dark and cold vice. She gasped and shivered, spine going straight, cup and droid forgotten, because she could _feel him_ , she could _sense her master,_ and it was like being enveloped in an icy bind, but one she did not find unpleasant. She took a deep breath, breaking some of the tension from the adrenaline crashing through her chest, and found tears blurring her vision. 

It was stupid of her to be so emotional, but the relief she felt was overwhelming. 

It didn’t matter that she was going to have to pay for her bad behavior. It didn’t matter that she’d hallucinated again and would probably have to tell him about it as well. 

Lord Ren had returned. He had kept his promise. And that was all that mattered. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter feels like filler (I wAiTeD tWo WeEkS fOr ThIs??) but it's an important transition to next chapter (and honestly it's a miracle I got it done at all, folks, cuz it's been a REAL ROUGH month for me). Good news is I already have ch 74 90% done so I'm very happy to say that it will be posted in one week 😁✨ ❤️ 🤩 😬 🙌 👏 🤝 😭 👍
> 
> I apologize for not responding to everyone's comments last chapter 😭 I did read them all, I just didn't have the energy to respond 😞 
> 
> Also, [Little_Miss_Phantom on Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/little_miss_phantom/?hl=en) drew another AMAZING fanart and OMG JUST LOOK AT THIS:
> 
> FRICKIN AMAZING. Please check out her other works! 
> 
> As always, I LOVE fanart, of any kind, so please show meeeee 👁👄👁 
> 
> if you want to see my own art or chat, you can reach me on [Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr.](https://www.linktr.ee/veggieheist) I also have an email (veggieheist.art@gmail.com). 
> 
> **Next chapter: We get a reunion, a confession, and a mystery begins to unravel.**  
>  Posting date: Sunday, February 28th at 9PM JST


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